


tip the scales

by saranghaja



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Murder Mystery, detective baekhyun, forensic pathologist kyungsoo, warnings in notes!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 18:51:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16728903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saranghaja/pseuds/saranghaja
Summary: Rookie detective Baekhyun finds himself embroiled in a murder investigation with too many uncanny occurrences.





	tip the scales

**Author's Note:**

> **warnings:** mentions of murder, death, violence, a gun (singular) & drugs; medical inaccuracies, questionable legal practices, one (poorly-written) porn scene.
> 
> me: ugh i hate inaccurate crime TV shows with unnecessary romantic subplots  
> also me: writes inaccurate crime fic with an unnecessary romantic subplot
> 
> i had DMUMT era styling in mind when i wrote this (especially Baekhyun in uniform!!!)

Baekhyun loves his job.

Work, to Baekhyun, is defined as sitting around in his air-conditioned office, filing paperwork, making instant coffee for his boss and occasionally, heading out to parts of the city with a roll of yellow caution tape and rubber gloves. Sometimes the old lady who owns the bakery down the street gives him free donuts and a healthy dose of ego-boosting after a case, cooing about how dashing he looks saving cats from trees and writing tickets for illegally-parked cars.

Okay, correction: Baekhyun _loved_ his job, past tense. Ever since the department implemented their new rounds system, there has been a steep decline in crime rates in Seoul, so he hasn’t gotten a chance to actually leave his office in a couple of months save for clocking in and out and having lunch.

It’s supposed to be a good thing, you know, for the sakes of the good people of Seoul, but it leaves him bored out of his mind.

At the Korean National Police Agency, Baekhyun’s probably one of the smallest fish. His name tag says Detective, but the last time they had a murder case, Baekhyun was merely assigned paperwork, while Chanyeol, that monkey lookalike douchebag who never fails to flex in front of Baekhyun at any given opportunity, was assigned field work. So while Chanyeol went around interviewing friends and family of the main suspect (the son of the victim) and collecting evidence (cause of death: blunt force trauma; murder weapon: a wooden baseball bat), Baekhyun was getting paper cuts from rearranging every folder in all twelve of their filing cabinets because according to his asshole chief Kim Minseok, Baekhyun needed the "mental training" ever since he messed up that one time.

However, on the bright side, there is one saving grace about working for the KNPA, and that’s Do Kyungsoo, head of forensics, whose fine ass he may or may not be tapping on the side.

Their love affair started six months ago, when he was first assigned to work at the KNPA headquarters. Of course Baekhyun couldn’t help but notice the bedroom eyes the hot guy in the lab coat kept giving him all week, so at the end of a torturous work week, he cornered the guy and kissed him against his fancy white car. Turns out Kyungsoo just couldn’t see very well without his glasses and was merely squinting at him. However, after multiple makeout sessions in the backseat of a BMW and a few times Kyungsoo actually took him home, Baekhyun thinks Kyungsoo has developed a certain fondness for him.

Monday morning, Baekhyun swings by the forensics lab in the basement. The air down there is cold and stale, making it feel eerie, almost. Baekhyun rubs his starched-stiff sleeves up and down before entering the break room, where he knows Kyungsoo spends his time watching budget horror movies when there isn’t a case. "Hello, honey bunchkins," Baekhyun coos when he sees Kyungsoo exactly where he pictured him, on the ugly faux leather couch with a cup of black coffee held to his mouth and his iPad on his lap.

Kyungsoo looks up to glare at him, removing his left earphone. "Are you here to ruin my day already, Byun? It’s barely 9 a.m.," he grumbles.

Baekhyun sidles up to him, a hand placed purposefully on his thigh. "Not at all, dearie. Just making it better." Gently, he pulls Kyungsoo’s wrist towards him and sneaks a swig from his mug. "The scrubs not in yet?"

Kyungsoo cradles his mug protectively to his chest, trying to look menacing, but his eyes betray him. Baekhyun doesn’t understand how someone as scary as Do Kyungsoo has eyes that remind him of the baby penguins he saw at the zoo as a child. "Don’t call them scrubs," Kyungsoo says haughtily. "They’re my people."

"Aw, cute." Baekhyun picks up Kyungsoo’s fallen earbud and hits play on Kyungsoo’s device. He sees David Caruso on screen, sunglasses perched atop his nose. Iconic. Nose wrinkling, he says, "Is this... CSI? Don’t you hate this show?"

"Yeah, but being out of work for two months is getting to me,” Kyungsoo replies, ruffling his own hair. “It’s crazy, but watching CSI feels like scratching the phantom itch on the small square on my back that I can’t reach. I think I’m going to miss this.”

"CSI is stupid, everyone knows you can’t lift a fingerprint off the outside pane of a window." Baekhyun pulls on Kyungsoo’s dress shirt, untucks the hem of his shirt, fingers creeping up Kyungsoo’s back. He plucks the mug from Kyungsoo’s grip and sets it on the table, leaning in close, so close he can feel Kyungsoo’s breath ghosting over his lips. "Tell me again, you were saying about an itch?"

Baekhyun’s fingertips tickle and Kyungsoo giggles, in a manly Dr Do, Forensic Pathologist manner, of course. His eyes slide shut. "Are you going to kiss me or not," he teases.

Baekhyun closes the gap and their lips touch. It barely lasts a second because the elevator dings loudly, and through the glass window on the door Baekhyun sees Minseok stalking over, looking not at all pleased, even for 9 a.m. on a Monday.

"Fuck, hide me," Baekhyun hisses.

Kyungsoo scowls. "No. You deserve the chief’s wrath for ruining my Monday morning."

"Kyungsoo—" Baekhyun whines. The doorknob twists, and he immediately rises to his feet, hands behind his back. "Chief, good morning," he says sheepishly, hand rising to give a weak salute.

"Where the fuck is your walkie-talkie, Byun? I’ve been looking for you for fifteen minutes," Minseok growls. Baekhyun pats his belt where he was sure he’d— oh, he’d forgotten it on his desk. Well, shit. Minseok’s glare doubles in intensity. "Never mind, grab your shit and let’s go. We’ve got a body behind a club dumpster down in Itaewon."

Minseok doesn’t wait for him. Baekhyun mouths a ‘sorry’ to Kyungsoo, who shrugs. Work is work, and work is more important than booty calls, especially when you work for the police. Minseok already took the lift up, so Baekhyun sprints up the stairs two steps at a time, grabbing his badge and slipping his pistol into its holster. Thankfully, he catches up just as Minseok starts the engine of the cruiser, the blue lights flashing as they speed out the station. "You’re lucky it’s Park’s off-day, Byun, or I’d have you clean every toilet in the station," Minseok grumbles. "It would really help if you’d keep your dick in your pants when you’re at work."

"Yes, sir—" he stops abruptly when Minseok’s words sink in. "Wait, what? You knew?"

Minseok rolls his eyes. He floors the gas, cleanly overtaking the sedan in front of him before slowing down to adhere to the speed limit. "You underestimate me. I’m the chief; you think your sneaking around the forensics department the past few months escaped my notice? You’re about as stealthy as an elephant; I’m pretty sure the whole force knows by now."

Baekhyun feels his face flame. "Sorry, boss. Won’t happen again."

"Right," Minseok says, in a tone that clearly indicates how much he believes him. “For the past few years, only the academy’s best cadets got sent to headquarters. I have no idea how I got landed with you.” Before he can say anything more, the police radio crackles to life. Both of them listen intently, hearing the words _no obvious signs of trauma_ and _victim identified_. Minseok grips the wheel and speeds up.

By time they arrive, the officers there have already taped off the dumpster. There’s a black body bag by the dumpster, zipped. “You’re only here to observe, Byun,” Minseok warns. “You’re still on probation, so no touching or talking, clear?” Then he ducks under the tape, probably going to talk to Yixing, the chief of another branch. Snow crunches beneath Baekhyun’s boots as he hurries after him.

"A college kid found him while snooping through the club’s dumpster," Yixing says, jerking his head at the body bag. "Male, in his 50s. Oh Youngmin, according to his ID. Nothing seems to be missing. Wallet’s still on him, and his phone battery’s flat, but otherwise in one piece."

"College kid?" Minseok raises his eyebrows. "That’s a bit suspicious, isn’t it? There’s no reason to be taking out the trash in the morning before any of the stores have even opened."

"Said he usually dumpster dives clubs and restaurants looking for recyclables—beer cans, vodka bottles, anything. Don’t worry, he’s been taken down to my station for his statement." Yixing tilts his head, eyes sweeping over the crime scene before he continues. "That’s not the strangest part, though. There’s no blood, no obvious wound. His skin was blue, so my first thought was another drug overdose, but who put him in the dumpster?"

"I can’t think of a motive either," Minseok muses. "It couldn’t have been a random robbery, considering how none of his valuables appear to be missing. I doubt it’s self-inflicted, if the sloppy disposal of the body is any indication."

“Should we call the DEA?”

“There’s no need until we confirm the involvement of drugs,” Minseok says. “Till then, we’ll treat this is a murder investigation.”

Baekhyun watches silently, in awe. This is his first time actually attending to a crime scene, and hearing the chiefs discuss possibilities without even so much as _looking_ at the body sent chills down his spine. Despite what Minseok told him earlier, he pipes up, hoping to earn some brownie points with the chief. "I’m sure if Kyungsoo—I mean, Dr Do, had a look at the body, he might be able to figure something out.”

Yixing looks at him curiously. Minseok answers for him, seemingly amused. "My forensics guy."

"Ah. From the poisoning case in March?"

"The very same." Minseok nods. "Xing, I’ll take it from here. Byun, we have an ID. Have the bureau confirm his dental records, then start questioning the victim’s relations. Family first, then close friends and colleagues. Try to build a timeline of his whereabouts."

"Yes sir," Baekhyun says, turning on his heel to make the necessary phone calls.

"Ah, one last thing," Minseok says, raising an eyebrow. "Don’t screw up again, or I’m having Park replace you on this case."

"Yes sir!"

* * *

"Then the chief said, in his mister big guy voice, ‘Don’t screw up again, Byun’." Baekhyun is retelling the story to Kyungsoo, in a very bad mimicry of Minseok’s voice as he stuffs another wonton into his mouth. "Can you believe it? And he still thinks Chanyeol’s the better detective because of that _one_ time."

Kyungsoo snorts, eyes still fixed on the TV as he eats his jjajangmyeon out of the cheap, plastic bowl it came in. His hair is soft and clean, and he’s changed out of his work attire. "Well, maybe that’s because Chanyeol didn’t send the fingerprints to the bank and the bank slips to the forensics lab."

"Kyungsoo," Baekhyun whines. He puts on his best pout. "Can’t you be nice to me? It’s my first day of doing, like, actual detective work."

"I invited you over and bought you Chinese food."

"So this is you celebrating for me?" Baekhyun crows. "I knew you loved me, Kyungsoo, even if your love for me is buried deeper than your secret love for CSI."

"Stop talking."

"You got to see the body, right? To get samples. Did you find anything?" Baekhyun continues. "Or did you just have one of your scrubs do it? After all that complaining about being out of work, I’m sure you would’ve wanted to do it yourself—"

"I said stop talking." Kyungsoo sets down his empty bowl. He clambers into Baekhyun’s lap, thighs hugging the sides of Baekhyun’s own. "I didn’t ask you to come over to talk about work. You said something about celebrating?"

Baekhyun’s hands run up and down Kyungsoo’s sides appreciatively. "Um, wow, okay. Yes, I remember saying that."

"Scratch that itch for me, will you?" Kyungsoo says, and he leans down to capture Baekhyun’s lips with his own.

* * *

The next day, Baekhyun enters the office to see Chanyeol fuming in his cubicle. It’s not every day that he has something to gloat about, because Park Chanyeol has always been the perfect model of a policeman. He might as well take full advantage of it. “Why, hello there, Park. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed?” he says.

“You got lucky,” Chanyeol says sulkily. “If yesterday hadn’t been my off day, the chief would’ve picked me. Just saying.”

“You snooze, you lose,” Baekhyun says breezily. “I’m sure there are a few cats stuck in trees that those big guns of yours can help, but what this case requires is brains, Park. Someone like—”

“You?” Chanyeol scoffs. “Like you have any of those. You graduated at the bottom of our class, if you remember. Because I do. Very clearly.”

Baekhyun squints at him. “I’m pretty sure there are files in the basement that need sorting.”

“Do you two always talk this much in the morning?” Minseok says as he enters, cutting off Chanyeol’s retort.

“You know what they say, the emptiest cans make the most noise,” Chanyeol replies.

“That’s rich coming from you, because the last time I heard you use your indoor voice was, wow, never!”

“Enough,” Minseok says, unimpressed. “Byun, did you do what I asked?”

“Yes, sir!” Baekhyun pulls out a folder of paper from his bag. After he left Kyungsoo’s last night, he’d spent all night writing these reports. “Dental records confirm his identity. Oh Youngmin, 57, blood type B. He was born in Busan—”

“I don’t need his life history. Just tell me what you found out that will actually help us solve this case.”

Baekhyun hears Chanyeol snicker in the background. “Um, right.” He shuffles through his reports hastily. “I went to the address on his ID. His daughter lives there now, but she got very angry when I asked about him. Apparently he had a serious drug problem and was shooting heroin before she kicked him out. According to her, she hasn’t heard from him since then, and his wife died years ago, so he didn’t have any other family I could contact.”

“Anything else? Work or close friends?”

Baekhyun pulls out another report. “He was unemployed, so no colleagues. His daughter said he lost most of his friends when he got addicted, and she’s not sure if he kept in contact with anyone. She assumed he was either homeless or taking shelter at a home. For all we know, he could’ve been making that dumpster his home, and simply died of complications from his addiction.”

Minseok ponders this. “Get a full medical history. Also, talk to the club and see if they’ve seen him hanging around before this. If all of this checks out, we can rule out foul play and rule it a suicidal death. Good job, Byun.”

Baekhyun salutes him. “On it, sir!”

“And me, sir?” Chanyeol asks, tone hopeful.

Minseok smiles. “You can file Byun’s reports.”

* * *

Baekhyun does not do a victory dance all the way to the basement.

Unfortunately, only one of Kyungsoo’s scrubs is there, the one who looks far too princely to be working in a musty basement. “Anything I can do for you, officer?”

“Hey scrub, is Kyungsoo around?”

“For the last time, my name is Junmyeon,” the scrub says flatly. “I am _not_ a scrub, I am Dr Do’s assistant. If anything, Jongin’s the scrub, he joined our team the latest."

“Hey! " a voice comes from behind the rack of colourful test tubes. “Is that how you treat the maknae?”

“Right. I just need the full toxicology report from Kyungsoo and I’ll be on my way.”

“Policemen,” Junmyeon mutters, rolling his eyes. He walks over to his desk, where there are mountains of paper messily scattered all over its surface. “Do you know how long it takes to produce a complete toxicology report? This isn’t a TV show, we can’t do all of this overnight. And even if we could, we sure as hell aren’t paid enough to.”

“I’m sorry?” Baekhyun starts, taking a step back.

“Do you know how many tissue samples I had to take?” Junmyeon continues with vehemence. “There’s the blood from the heart, then the femoral artery, the vitreous humour from the eye. And the bile! Do you know want to know what that smells like? And then you upstart detectives like barging into _our_ lab, demanding reports, asking us to run tests whenever you want—"

“Hyung, chill,” the scrub, Jongin, says, coming out from his hiding spot. He puts his hand on Junmyeon’s shoulder to calm him down. “Sorry, officer, he’s had... unfortunate run-ins with policemen before. It’s not your fault, really. There’s just this one policeman, by the name of Oh Se—”

“Don’t say his name,” Junmyeon muttered darkly.

Sweat trickles down Baekhyun’s neck. He’s never had to be in the presence of Kyungsoo’s scrubs when their head of department wasn’t around before, and it’s making him increasingly uncomfortable. He tugs on his sleeve awkwardly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to trigger any of this. I just need to see Kyungsoo about the latest case.”

“Kyungsoo-hyung took some samples to another lab for testing,” Jongin explains kindly. “I’m not sure what time he’ll be back, but we can assist you for now.”

“Oh.” Baekhyun tries to mask his disappointment. He was really looking forward to another hot, celebratory make out session on the break room’s disgusting couch. “Well, I interviewed the victim’s daughter yesterday, and apparently our guy here had a major drug problem—heroin. If the toxicology report can prove that his death was suicidal, say a drug overdose, then we can definitively rule out foul play."

Appearing calmer, Junmyeon picks through the organised mess on his desk. The scariest part, Baekhyun thinks, is that the guy actually seems to know what’s in each chaotic pile. “His liver showed that he was a heavy drug user, but his heroin blood concentration was only 0.24 milligrams per litre at the time of testing. Of course, this isn’t a complete write-up, so I’m afraid we can’t provide you the answers you need."

Baekhyun is confused. “But you just said there’s heroin in his blood? Meaning the drugs could’ve killed him, right?”

“Well, yes,” says Jongin, "but like Junmyeon-hyung said, it’s not a complete write-up. Toxicology is more than just a simple blood test, there are too many extraneous variables that can affect its results. Besides, a blood concentration of 0.24 isn’t sufficient to cause a fatal overdose.”

Baekhyun wracks his brain for whatever information he retained from his college Forensics 101 class. “Is there a possibility that the drug broke down post-mortem?” he asks.

“It is possible, but we estimate that he’d been dead for about four hours when he was discovered. Heroin has a pretty short half-life, but it’s highly unlikely that the concentration decreased too dramatically within such a short time frame,” Jongin says.

Baekhyun sighs. “Out the window my theory goes then.”

“Toxicology’s not an exact science.” Junmyeon smiles grimly. “If he was doing other drugs, an overdose could still be possible. If there were more than one type of drug in his system, something we call the ‘one plus one equals five’ effect could have happened, which is when the effects are intensified due to the similar actions of the drugs. We’ll probably need to run more tests.”

Jongin nods. “Every body reacts differently, too. A full medical history would help.”

“I was just on my way to get it for the chief,” Baekhyun says. “I’ll print you guys a copy.”

As he turns to leave, Junmyeon says, “Wait!”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think you should rule out foul play,” he says seriously. “While collecting tissue samples, I found bruising on the victim’s abdomen. I’m not sure what the coroner wrote on his autopsy report, but it looked intentional to me.”

Jongin frowns. “Didn’t Kyungsoo-hyung say it was just post-mortem bruising?”

“Well, I think Kyungsoo is wrong,” Junmyeon says. “The body barely decayed; it was still in rigor mortis when I got to it, so there shouldn’t be much discolouration in the first place. Not to mention the shape and colour of the bruise is nothing like any post-mortem bruising I’ve ever seen.”

Baekhyun mulls Junmyeon’s words over in his head. Something feels off. Chills run down Baekhyun’s spine, but not the good kind that he felt at the crime scene. "The chief told me he died of asphyxiation," says Baekhyun, brows furrowed.

“That much is obvious. What we need to find out is what caused the asphyxiation. Anyhow, the cause of death is still indeterminate until we finish testing, and we have yet to receive the autopsy report," Junmyeon says. “It could have been respiratory failure from all the drugs, like you said. I’m just telling you what I saw.”

“Thanks, Junmyeon,” Baekhyun says. “You too, scrub.” And perhaps it’s the draftiness of the lab, but Baekhyun leaves with the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

* * *

Baekhyun spends the following day going from hospital to hospital in the general vicinity of the crime scene, trying to get hold of the victim’s medical history. There had to be a billion hospitals in Itaewon, and unsurprisingly, none of them had any records about an Oh Youngmin. At twilight, the red of the setting sun against the dark blue sky casts a dusky, purple light. Baekhyun feels a fat drop of rain land on his forehead, and he barely has enough time to say "Just fucking great" before he’s drenched in rain.

He still has to stop by the crime scene and ask the club, Up Rising, some questions. However, it’s only 6 p.m. and as far as he knows, most night clubs in Itaewon didn’t officially open till eight. He considers hiding in his car till the rain lets up, but as the freezing drops of winter rain seep into his uniform, he feels the exhaustion, both mental and physical, settle deep into his bones. Also, he’s fucking famished.

And that’s how he ends up knocking on the door of Kyungsoo’s apartment. “Police, open up!”

Baekhyun hears footsteps rush to the door and the lock unlocking. “Hi there,” he says, teeth chattering.

“Jesus, Baekhyun, you scared me. That wasn’t funny,” Kyungsoo says, scowling. “And you’re dripping on my expensive doormat. Didn’t I give you my passcode?”

“I—I didn’t want to barge in,” Baekhyun replies, shaking as Kyungsoo plucks a towel from his coatroom and drapes him with it. He feels Kyungsoo’s arm snake around his waist and finds himself being ushered to Kyungsoo’s master bathroom. “Wait, let me drop this off at the kitchen. I bought us dinner.”

Kyungsoo takes the plastic bag of convenience store snacks from him. “Strip. I’ll run you a bath.”

Baekhyun peels his wet uniform off, still shivering from head to toe. “Care to join me?” he asks, trying to waggle his eyebrows, except his face is so frozen it must look like his forehead is cramping.

“Not a very inviting proposition when your lips are blue, Baekhyun.”

One hot bath later, Baekhyun creeps into Kyungsoo’s bedroom to steal one of his black sweaters and slips into some comfy pants. He peeks into the kitchen to see Kyungsoo whipping up a simple stew, and the ddeokbokki he bought in the microwave.

He takes this chance to fulfil his secret domestic fantasies. Curling his arms around Kyungsoo’s waist, he envelopes him in a back-hug, digging his nose into Kyungsoo’s nape to deeply inhale the smell of Kyungsoo’s hair. “You didn’t have to cook, you know,” he murmurs against the skin there.

He hears Kyungsoo swallow. “Ddeokbokki is not sustenance,” comes the other man’s reply. It delights Baekhyun to hear the slight tremor in his voice. “And what is your obsession with my hair?”

“You just smell good.” Baekhyun untangles himself, grabs two bowls from the cupboard. He switches off the rice-cooker and fills the bowls with fluffy, white rice, while Kyungsoo brings out the stew to the dining table. “I can’t believe you can actually cook even though you eat takeout for dinner all time. You perfect man, Do Kyungsoo. I’m starving.”

“First of all, I only get takeout when you come over.”

“We would’ve banged a lot earlier if I knew you could cook.”

“Second of all, I don’t enjoy indulging your creepy domestic fantasies, especially when they involve me.”

Damn. So Kyungsoo does know about his fantasies.

“Do I need to ask why you’re here?” says Kyungsoo, blowing on the stew before he takes a sip.

“Was working, then it rained,” Baekhyun says through mouthfuls of rice. “You’re the only person I know who can afford to live in Itaewon. I know it was totally unexpected, but my car was parked really far away because I’d been going around on foot the whole day. And I was really hungry too, I only had donuts and coffee for lunch, so... Anyway, sorry for dropping by uninvited like this.”

“It’s okay,” Kyungsoo mutters. “You can come whenever you want. I mean, the secret’s out anyway—I can cook. Just—just let me know, if you ever want to come over. For dinner. Or sex. Anything.”

A smile threatens to break Baekhyun’s face. He tries not to let it show, because he doesn’t want Kyungsoo to close off again, but it’s really fucking hard when he’s so happy. “Anything, you say?”

He thinks he hears Kyungsoo mumble, “What the fuck did I just sign up for”, but he’ll let that slide for now.

After their meal, Kyungsoo stacks the dirty bowls and slides the pile across the table towards Baekhyun and says, “I cooked. You’re doing the dishes.”

“Sure, honey,” Baekhyun replies, saccharine sweet. “It’s part of my domestic fantasy, after all.”

From where he’s stretched out on Kyungsoo’s sofa, he can almost hear Kyungsoo spitefully scrubbing the bowls. He lets his eyes slide shut for what feels like two seconds, but when he comes to, Kyungsoo’s sitting on the floor in front of the sofa, watching a movie. He feels fingers carding through his hair, so gently that he fails to suppress a moan of satisfaction. The fingers still and retract.

“Hey, don’t stop,” Baekhyun mumbles sleepily. “Feels good.”

“You were supposed to be asleep,” Kyungsoo says accusatorily. “I let you hog my entire couch. My ass hurts, sitting on the floor.”

Baekhyun shifts so that he takes up less space and pats the vacated cushion. “Come up here, then. You can be the little spoon today.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“If you won’t come to me, I’ll just go to you.” Baekhyun slides to the floor, sitting up with his knees folded to his chest and presses himself to Kyungsoo’s side. “Do you think I’m clingy?”

“Very.”

“But you don’t hate it?”

Kyungsoo doesn’t answer.

“What time is it?” asks Baekhyun.

“A little after nine,” replies Kyungsoo.

Baekhyun jumps to his feet. “You let me sleep for almost two hours?!”

“You looked tired. What’s wrong?”

“I promised the chief I’d interview the workers at the club where they found the body today. I was supposed to stop by at eight, when they opened. Shit, I really have to leave now. You wouldn’t happen to have proper clothes I could borrow, would you?”

Kyungsoo turns off the TV. “Yeah. I’ll come with. I could use a few drinks.”

“Are you nuts? There’s a killer on the loose, right here in Itaewon! I’m going alone,” Baekhyun says. He whips off the sweatshirt he was wearing and puts on one of Kyungsoo’s expensive button-ups. It’s a tight fit, especially around the shoulders, but with his uniform still tumbling in the washing machine, he doesn’t have much of a choice.

“Very macho, Baekhyun.” Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “I didn’t know the case was ruled a murder.”

“I don’t know for sure, but I’m not taking any chances.”

Kyungsoo is already putting on his shoes and his coat. “I’m not going to end up in a dumpster, and neither are you.”

“You’re so stubborn, you know that?” Baekhyun grumbles, tucking his badge into the front pocket of his shirt.

Up Rising isn’t too far from Kyungsoo’s apartment. It takes them ten minutes or so by foot. Baekhyun starts with the bouncer first, who is reluctant to speak to him, even more so after Baekhyun flashes his badge. Then he talks to a guy he assumes is a part-timer, guarding the backdoor where the dumpster is, but he too claims to have never seen the victim hanging around here before.

“I’m running into one dead end after another with this case,” he sighs. “It’s driving me crazy. My very first case as a detective, yet...”

“Come on,” says Kyungsoo. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

The inside of the club is loud, hot and humid. It’s thrumming with loud music, and Baekhyun cringes every time he brushes against a sweaty person dancing. “This is not how I typically spend work nights, Kyungsoo!” Baekhyun yells, and hopes his voice doesn’t get drowned out by the obnoxious music.

He follows Kyungsoo to the bar, where Kyungsoo pays for a drink as promised. Here, at least, isn’t too crowded, most people choosing to stay on the dance floor. Baekhyun can hear himself think again. The bartender is watching him carefully, sizing him up, until he spots the edge of Baekhyun’s badge sticking out from his pocket. “You brought a cop,” he says to Kyungsoo.

“Yes.”

“Oh. _The_ cop?” The bartender’s grin widens, uncannily resembling a Cheshire cat’s.

“Yes. Shut up.” Kyungsoo turns to Baekhyun. “Baekhyun, meet Jongdae. Jongdae, Baekhyun.”

“Here to arrest me, officer?” Jongdae asks, smirking a little.

“Not unless there’s a reason for me to,” Baekhyun quips. “I just need to ask a few questions.”

Jongdae looks at Kyungsoo, then back at him. “About the body they found yesterday?”

“Yes. So you know about that,” says Baekhyun.

“Of course. I work here.”

“Did you know him?”

“Seen him around once or twice, maybe,” Jongdae drawls. “Do I need a lawyer?”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “Stop being dramatic and just let him do his job, Jongdae.”

“He frequents the bar?” Baekhyun presses. “Or do you happen to hang around club dumpsters a lot?”

“Neither. I see him lurking around in the back alley sometimes, when I take my smoke breaks.”

Baekhyun doesn’t have a pen or paper on him, which is a huge blunder on his part, since he knew he was coming to get statements. He’s glad Minseok isn’t here right now, because he doesn’t want to lose the trust he painstakingly built with his boss this morning. His phone will make do for now.

He opens a new memo and starts typing. “I see. I talked to the guy who works out back there by the backdoor, and he said he’s never seen him before.”

Jongdae laughs. It sounds mocking, even though his eyes are filled with mirth. “You believe him over me?”

“I didn’t say that,” Baekhyun says. “You’re just giving me inconsistent answers.”

“Maybe you’re not asking the right questions.”

Kyungsoo nudges him. “Just finish your drink, Baekhyun.”

“But I’m not done with my questions,” Baekhyun says. “Just one last one.”

Kyungsoo just plucks his phone out of his hands and slips it into his own pocket. “I don’t think Jongdae will be giving you any useful answers tonight.”

“Leaving so soon, Kyungsoo? You just got here.” Jongdae smiles again, but he looks smugger than anything. It’s that cat-like smile of his. “Want another drink?”

“Tempting, but no thanks. I work nine-to-five, unlike you.”

“Well, you know where to find me if you ever need to drown your sorrows in alcohol again.” Jongdae salutes Baekhyun. “Nice meeting you, officer.”

As they leave the bar, Baekhyun asks curiously, “Again? I didn’t know you come here often.”

“I think there are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” Kyungsoo says, as quietly as the club would allow him. “Want to dance?”

Baekhyun wants to say no (while he is extremely clingy and affectionate, he really, really hates being pressed up against strangers in crowded places) but Kyungsoo has already pulled him over to the dance floor. Thankfully, he doesn’t make any attempts to enter the human sardine can. They stay at the edge of the crowd, where he feels hands grip his hips, and he prays up and down that they belong to Kyungsoo.

“Is this what you usually come here for?” Baekhyun shouts over the music, draping his hands over Kyungsoo’s shoulders as they sway side to side to their own beat. “Slow dancing to house music?”

“No, I usually come here for Jongdae,” Kyungsoo says loudly. “I get lonely, too, sometimes.”

“What, you’re sleeping with him too?” Baekhyun jokes.

“It’s nothing like that; Jongdae and I go way back.” Kyungsoo appears to have given up on yelling, and it sends makes him shiver, hearing his voice directly by his ear. “And I thought we were exclusive?”

Baekhyun is a little surprised. “We can be,” he says. Kyungsoo gives him a look. “I’m not sleeping with anyone else, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

Baekhyun takes them outside. Jongdae gives them a thumbs up and a wink when he spots them leaving together. “Finally,” Baekhyun says, taking a huge breath of fresh air. As fresh as it gets in Seoul, at least. “My throat hurts from all that screaming.”

“Forget it,” Kyungsoo says. He rubs the back of his nape, where Baekhyun likes to sniff the most. His face is scarily void of emotion. “I’ll call you a cab.”

“Kyungsoo,” Baekhyun says softly. “If you’re asking me to date you...”

“I take it back,” Kyungsoo snaps. “Drop it, all right?”

“You should at least give a man some time to say yes before you break up with them,” Baekhyun says, smiling.

“I can’t break up with you if we were never—mmph!”

Baekhyun cups Kyungsoo’s face and kisses him soundly. He’s not wearing gloves, even in this early winter weather, so he can feel every bump on Kyungsoo’s skin, even the small patch of stubble on the underside of his jaw he must’ve missed while shaving this morning. Their breaths fog when they break apart. “I didn’t expect our first kiss as boyfriends to be in the middle of the street,” Baekhyun says, laughing.

Kyungsoo’s defences crumble, and he’s laughing, too. It’s a rare sight that makes Baekhyun want to boop his red nose and squish his cheeks, but he would rather not die at the hands of his boyfriend one minute into his relationship. “You have unrealistic expectations of me then, Byun Baekhyun,” says Kyungsoo.

“12-year-old Baekhyun thought his first real boyfriend was going to at least look like Danny Phantom, but that’s a pretty impossible standard to live up to, so I guess 26-year-old Baekhyun will have to settle for less.”

Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow, still smiling gently. “Surely I’m not your first.”

Baekhyun shrugs. He flags down a yellow taxi. “I wasn’t the most popular cadet back in the police academy, I’ll admit.” There was Chanyeol, tall, smart, buff—all the things Baekhyun is not.

Kyungsoo gives the driver his own address. “Stay the night,” he tells Baekhyun. The hardest part of the trip home was trying not to jump Kyungsoo and kiss him in the backseat like old times, audience be damned. Instead, he just holds Kyungsoo’s hand and stares out the window as the buildings fly past.

They make it to the lift, at least. By time Kyungsoo keys in the passcode on his door, he’s already halfway out of his coat. They stumble down Kyungsoo’s hallway, bumping into furniture because they refused to part lips, hands, hips, as if they’re dancing some kind of uncoordinated tango. Baekhyun lets Kyungsoo take him on his back, even if it’s not his favourite way to make love.

Kyungsoo is usually quiet when they have sex, his pleasure typically translating into soft moans and groans. But tonight, Kyungsoo is staring at him uncharacteristically, at the corner of his lip where he knows he has a mole. “Baekhyun,” he grunts. “You’re so special.”

Baekhyun’s laugh is giddy. He tries to keep his eyes open to return his gaze, but the tempo Kyungsoo sets makes it so, very difficult. “Yeah? That’s a word my middle school teachers used to describe me.”

Baekhyun spoons him after they’re done, the way Kyungsoo refused to let him earlier in the evening. They’re sticky with perspiration and, well, other things, but Baekhyun’s hard-pressed to complain when Kyungsoo’s so warm. “It’s kinda crazy that I landed myself a boyfriend in the middle of a murder investigation,” he says, the endorphins making his mind a little cloudy.

“There is no murder,” Kyungsoo scolds him. “You are awful at pillow talk. Just go to sleep.”

“Can’t. The wet spot’s on my side of the bed.”

Kyungsoo grunts. He carelessly pulls himself free from Baekhyun’s embrace, much to the protests spilling from his lover’s lips. “Don’t go,” comes Baekhyun’s pitiful whine.

“I’m just going to get us a towel. Be right back.”

“You come back here right now, or else...” but Baekhyun doesn’t manage to finish his threat before he drifts off.

* * *

In the morning, Kyungsoo heats up the leftover rice from yesterday and fries omu-rice for breakfast. Baekhyun learns that Kyungsoo, thank god, had the mind to load his uniform into the dryer last night, and even ironed it for him. “Did it hurt?” Baekhyun asks, shovelling food into his mouth.

“What are you talking about?” Kyungsoo says irritably.

“When you fell from heaven, Kyungsoo. You’re an angel.”

Kyungsoo just rolls his eyes. Baekhyun used to find that habit of his annoying, but it’s become endearing now, adorable even. How does a person have so much white in one eye? “Your phone,” says Kyungsoo, handing it to him. “You left it in my pocket last night, but I charged it for you this morning.”

Baekhyun unlocks it (“Your password is your birthday? Really?” “Aw, you know my birthday.”) and sees seven missed calls, all from his roommate. “Shit, I forgot to tell my roommate that I wasn’t going home last night. He probably thinks the Itaewon killer got me.”

Kyungsoo frowns. “Stop talking about that.”

“Sorry, it’s just my defence mechanism. Honestly, Kyungsoo, I’m a little scared," says Baekhyun. He runs his hand through his hair. “If there was foul play...”

“There wasn’t. That guy was a drug addict, and homeless people die all the time.”

“But the evidence doesn’t match up,” Baekhyun insists. “The whole case is weird, right from the crime scene. There’s no motive, no suspect, hell, not even a concrete cause of death. And there’s what Junmyeon told me too...”

“What did Junmyeon tell you?”

“Apparently the victim was hurt in the stomach before he died. That’s got to mean something, right?”

“Post-mortem bruising,” Kyungsoo answers. “Corpses are weird, Baekhyun, I would know. Considering how long he lay in that dumpster, blood from his gut probably just pooled in that area. Besides, my team and I are scientists, not, I don’t know, Detective Conan or something. That’s your job, alright? Leave this to us.”

“Fine, but if it’s a murder, you should move out of Itaewon.”

“And move in with you? Into the police dorms?” Kyungsoo laughs. “I have heated flooring, and you guys have what, communal showers?”

“Oh yes, make fun of the poor detective earning minimum wage, you overgrown trust fund baby,” Baekhyun grumbles. “I’ll just move in with you, then.”

“I will be fine, so stop worrying.” Kyungsoo presses his thumbs to where Baekhyun’s eyebrows have bunched up. “You might want to go take a shower now if you don’t want to be late, though.”

Kyungsoo drops Baekhyun off at the parking lot where he left his car overnight. The parking fee hurts, and Baekhyun wonders if he can persuade the KNPA to reimburse him. He clocks in two minutes to nine, and swivels round and round in his office chair with his hands folded behind his head, feeling unnaturally smiley. “Did you have fun filing my reports yesterday, Park?”

“I read a few of them yesterday. I think your reports actually killed a few of my brain cells.” Chanyeol doesn’t even bother looking at him when he says that, until his phone announces a ‘defeat!’ and he sets it down, cursing. “Wow, you and Dr Do, huh?”

Baekhyun stops and leans forward, eyes wide. “He told you?”

“He didn’t have to.”

Baekhyun wants to ask Chanyeol what he means, but Minseok comes barrelling in with two cups of hot Starbucks He sets one of them on Baekhyun’s desk, much to his surprise.

“Morning, sir,” Baekhyun greets the chief sunnily.

“Did you get the victim’s medical history?” Minseok asks.

“Oh. Well, no. I went to every hospital in the area, both private and government-owned, but none of them had any records.”

“Of course not,” Minseok sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He was homeless and a drug addict. You said he was from Busan, that should’ve been at the top of your list.”

“Busan is hours away,” Baekhyun defends meekly.

“It’s almost as if Alexander Graham Bell never made a ground-breaking discovery.”

“No hospital is going to release confidential patient records to someone over the phone—”

“Figure it out!” barks Minseok. “Tell me you at least got something useful from the club yesterday.”

“Yes sir! The employees all claimed they’ve never seen the victim before, except the bartender.” Baekhyun fishes for his phone. “I went to collect statements in plainclothes yesterday, so I didn’t have my notebook on me, but I saved the interviews on my phone.”

Minseok nods. “And?”

“And... it’s not here.” Sweat beads on Baekhyun’s forehead. He remembers typing into the memo app on his phone, highlighting the inconsistencies in the bartender’s and the part-timer’s answers. He scrolls past silly grocery lists and other notes, but his interview report has simply disappeared. God, he really shouldn’t have let Kyungsoo buy him that drink last night. “I think I deleted it by accident, sir.”

“Maybe if you had kept your dick in your pants at work like I told you to...” The chief just swipes a hand down his face. He plucks the coffee cup from Baekhyun’s desk and sets in on Chanyeol’s. “Park, with me. Byun, I want the medical report by lunch.”

Baekhyun sinks into his chair, defeated. Chanyeol throws him a wink as he stands to leave. He takes a gulp from the cup with an obnoxious ‘ah~’, and points to a spot beneath his left ear. “Might wanna cover that up,” he says over his shoulder.

Baekhyun doesn’t need a mirror to know Do Kyungsoo—hell’s spawn, Satan’s right hand man, fallen angel—has left a huge hickey there. He lets out a frustrated scream into his hands that he hopes travels all the way down to the basement.

* * *

“You sabotaged me!”

Kyungsoo doesn’t react, eyes unmoving as he reads the news on his iPad. “What did I do?”

Baekhyun huffs, plopping down next to Kyungsoo on the couch. “You know what you did.”

“I really don’t.” Kyungsoo finally looks up. And, okay, Kyungsoo’s looking at his lips again. “Enlighten me?”

Kyungsoo leans in, but Baekhyun pulls away. Those lips are far too dangerous, especially for his brain. “It’s lunch break. You know your scrubs could walk in and find out about us anytime, right?”

Kyungsoo just levels him with an unimpressed stare. “You seriously didn’t think we were actually being secretive about our relationship.”

“As a matter of fact, I did.”

“Well, as a matter of fact, we weren’t. Now come here, we can still enjoy the rest of my lunch break before Jongin gets back...”

Baekhyun just slaps a hand on Kyungsoo’s mouth before the latter can attack his. “No, no, no. See, this is exactly what you did!" Baekhyun accuses.

“Baekhyun,” Kyungsoo sighs, “if you’re here to make my lunch break difficult, you may leave.”

“You got me drunk and seduced me!” Baekhyun narrows his eyes. “I got into trouble with the chief this morning for losing Jongdae’s interview.”

“You probably just didn’t save it.”

“Because you got me intoxicated on the job.”

“Please, it was one drink, and you didn’t even finish it.”

“The chief retracted my expensive coffee privilege, which I wholly deserved, by the way, and gave it to Chanyeol. Chanyeol! And then I had to call up every hospital in the victim’s hometown, but no hospital was going to give me his records without me flashing my badge, which I couldn’t do over the phone. So I had to call the station in Busan, get them to procure his records, which they then _faxed_ to me. Like anyone in this century even knows how to use a fax machine."

“Sounds like you had quite the struggle with the fax machine,” says Kyungsoo, voice still muffled by Baekhyun’s hand.

“It’s not funny, and I’m not done yet. Then there’s you and your stupid mouth,” Baekhyun says, pouting. He removes his hand from Kyungsoo’s face to unwind the scarf around his neck. “Explain yourself.”

“So that’s why you were wearing that indoors,” Kyungsoo muses. He runs his thumb lightly over the love bite. “Sorry. I’ll make sure to only give you hickeys when it’s cold enough so you can hide them with scarves without looking like a weirdo.”

“You’re not cute, Do Kyungsoo.” Baekhyun huffs, wrapping the scarf back around his neck. “Anyway, I came to see Junmyeon.”

“You actually remembered his name,” says Kyungsoo, surprised. “What for?”

“When you weren’t here yesterday, we mutually agreed to call the other guy—”

“Jongin.”

“—the scrub, so we’re cool now. And I’m just here to drop off the victim’s medical history like I promised.”

“Junmyeon’s organising his desk right now,” Kyungsoo says. “If you give him any more papers, he might actually drown in them. Let me take it.”

“No, I’ll go,” Baekhyun says, getting up. “I want to talk to him. Enjoy your lunch break.”

Kyungsoo grips his wrist. “You can’t be still be thinking about that.”

Baekhyun tugs it free. “You can’t expect me not to be. Junmyeon thinks it’s fishy, too. I think my concern is very much justified.”

“Fine. Do what you want.”

“I will, thanks.” Baekhyun doesn’t want to get angry at Kyungsoo, doesn’t want to fight with him when they literally just got together the night before, even if they’d been fucking for at least six months. He schools his expression into an image of peace and serenity, the one that used to piss his mother off and earn him another scolding. “See you.”

Like Kyungsoo said, Junmyeon is at his desk, or more precisely, under it. “Hi,” Baekhyun says as quietly as he can, but Junmyeon startles anyway. There’s a loud thump, and Junmyeon surfaces, rubbing the top of his head. “Special delivery.”

Junmyeon takes the folder from him. “Thanks. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone; both Kyungsoo and the scrub are out for lunch. Nice scarf, by the way.”

Baekhyun ignores the last part. “Learn anything new?” he asks.

“Only that the coroner’s office is run by idiots,” says Junmyeon. “Not very useful for the case, unfortunately. Turns out they sent the autopsy results to the wrong station, that’s why we haven’t received it. Once we get it, though, we might be able to get the full toxicology report done for you in two weeks.”

“Two weeks? That’s too long.” Junmyeon glares at him. “I mean, thanks. Hey, um,” Baekhyun hesitates, letting out a shaky breath, “what if we’re wrong, Junmyeon-ssi? What if he’s just one of the hundreds of homeless people who die on the streets? Kyungsoo seems to think that’s the case.”

Junmyeon tilts his head. “We won’t know anything until we get the autopsy results. And of course Kyungsoo doesn’t want it to be a murder case; he doesn’t need more on his plate right now.”

“But he’s hardly ever wrong, is he?” asks Baekhyun.

“He’s just right most of the time,” says Junmyeon. "It doesn’t mean he can’t be wrong. Besides, I think he’s hiding something.”

Goosebumps race up Baekhyun’s arms. “You don’t think Kyungsoo _killed_ him?”

“What? No!” Junmyeon chuckles exasperatedly. “For someone who’s supposed to be protecting the lives of citizens, you policemen are so simple-minded. Think about it. If it was a murder, and it happened near where you lived, what would you do?”

Talking to Junmyeon constantly makes Baekhyun feel like he’s lacking a few IQ points. “I’m not sure we’re on the same page here,” he says slowly.

“He’s probably feeling scared, you dumbass.”

Baekhyun barks out a laugh. His Kyungsoo? “Are we talking about the same guy here?”

“Yes, the great Do Kyungsoo has feelings,” Junmyeon says, rolling his eyes. “Give him time, I’m sure he’ll come around. Now, he is my boss, and I really have better things to do than discuss his love life, so if you’ll excuse me.”

Junmyeon’s already steering him towards the door. “That doesn’t make sense. When I tried to protect him, he told me off!" Baekhyun argues.

He gets a snort in reply. “Of course he did, he’s not a damsel in distress. Just keep him safe. This conversation never happened, and never come to me for advice again. Bye!”

The door slams in his face. Still reeling, he wants to peek into the break room to see if Kyungsoo’s there, but then he remembers he’s supposed to be sulking. Whatever, he thinks, tapping his foot impatiently as he waits for the elevator. He’ll survive, with or without Kyungsoo.

* * *

For the week after their little tiff, Baekhyun is so swamped with work that he has no chance to go see his boyfriend. He gets sent on all sorts of errands for Minseok, most of which aren’t related to the case, much to his aggravation. Sometimes Minseok even lets Baekhyun trail after him like a lost puppy, and it opens his eyes to the inner workings of the KNPA HQ.

Baekhyun sees and learns so much in those few days, and it sparks something unfamiliar within him. He’s fascinated—the entire police unit works seamlessly, like clockwork, each gear spinning the next one into action. They are one; and Minseok leads.

He’s hit with an epiphany. He wants this, he wants to be the next Minseok. It was something he never thought he could have, but now that he’s had a little taste, he’s greedy for more.

These days, he’s been spending his lunch breaks with Chanyeol in the cafeteria. He tells himself it’s only because Junmyeon told him to give Kyungsoo space, but really, he thinks he’s actually warming up to the guy. They still don’t talk much, sometimes a comment here or there about the weather or the food, and Chanyeol is on his phone playing some mobile game most of the time anyway. They may have spent two years at the academy together as classmates, but honestly, they’re more strangers than anything.

As Baekhyun sets his tray down on Chanyeol’s table, a higher-up Minseok introduced him to yesterday recognises him and gives him a friendly nod. Baekhyun salutes cheekily, but stops when he catches Chanyeol giving him an indecipherable look. "What are you looking at?" he asks. It comes out ruder than he intends to, but he can’t help feeling a little defensive.

“Nothing,” says Chanyeol, going back to his meal. “Chief seems to have taken a liking to you.”

Oh, Baekhyun thinks, that look was _envy_. Baekhyun’s never been on the receiving end of that before. “He’s just showing me the ropes.”

“Well, congratulations anyway. The faster you get promoted, the less time you’ll have to share an office with me,” Chanyeol says.

Something about his words rubs Baekhyun the wrong way. “You don’t have to play nice guy with me,” he says hotly. His fist is shaking from how tight he has them clenched. “We’re not friends. You hate me, and I’m fine with that. Don’t start treating me nice just because the chief is.”

Chanyeol blinks in surprise at his outburst. “I only hate you because you hate me.”

Baekhyun was not expecting to hear that. He ducks his head, laughing a little like he doesn’t care. “It’s hard not to when you’re always flexing in front of me. Like seriously, I get it, I have noodle arms.”

Chanyeol snorts unattractively. “Please. I flex in front of everyone. You’re not that special, Byun.”

“You made fun of me all the time,” Baekhyun adds.

“So did you,” Chanyeol shoots back. “You gave me that horrible nickname Yoda.”

“That’s not even half as bad as the things you called me!” Baekhyun sets down his spoon, ticking the words off his fingers. “"Try stupid, worthless, failure, and that’s just from off the top of my head.”

“Okay, maybe I was a huge jackass back then—”

“Still are.”

“A little,” Chanyeol concedes. “I’m sorry I said all that. You seemed fine with it, I didn’t think I was actually affecting you.”

Baekhyun was never fine; it was just easier to pretend to laugh at the joke than be the joke. “Yeah, whatever. I’m sorry too. Let’s just bury the hatchet and go back to insulting each other, without the hard feelings this time.”

Baekhyun thinks it’s strange that after years of knowing each other, he just noticed that Chanyeol’s cheeks dimple when he smiles. Chanyeol extends his right hand, the left one holding onto his sleeve so that it doesn’t fall into his soup. “Friends?”

Baekhyun grasps the proffered hand. “I think I’ll settle for acquaintances.”

“How’s the case going?” asks Chanyeol, sounding interested. “Paperwork fucking blows. I miss being out there.”

“Besides what the chief asks me to find out, I don’t know any more than you do,” Baekhyun answers truthfully. “I thought since I was the one who went with him to the crime scene, he’d let me do more, but I guess not.”

“We’re still rookies, it’s understandable. The chief didn’t let me do much on my first actual case either,” Chanyeol says. “Didn’t you have a lead on the bartender?”

“Yeah, except he ratted me out to the bouncer. I’m not allowed in the club anymore.”

Chanyeol furrows his brows. “That’s suspicious.”

“Right? But since I lost that interview, the chief said we don’t have enough evidence to take him into custody. He has no criminal record either.” Baekhyun lets out a breath. “I messed up, basically.”

“Maybe if you intercept him before he enters the club? The bouncer can’t stop you if you don’t actually try to go in.”

“Maybe,” Baekhyun says, chewing thoughtfully. “But then again, I could wait there all night and it could be someone else serving drinks inside. Kyungsoo told me he doesn’t work there every day. I can’t even prove if he was there on that Sunday night.”

“Honestly, I’ve been dying to ask you this,” Chanyeol says conversationally, now that the mood’s lighter. Baekhyun feels lighter, too, having washed off the bad blood between them. “You and Dr Do? Really?”

“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun says, testing out his new friend’s first name on his tongue for the first time. “People don’t go from talking about pea soup and the weather to discussing their partners overnight.”

Chanyeol actually guffaws, palm slapping his own thigh as if what Baekhyun said was actually funny. “Come on. We’ve known each other for ages.”

“No, we really haven’t.” Chanyeol is still watching him expectantly as he spoons a large chunk of rice into his mouth. “Fine. We’re fucking.”

Chanyeol waves a hand. “I already knew that. I meant are you guys together in the cheesy, hand-holding, googly-eyed way? You always run off during lunch, but here you are sitting with me right now. I see the way he looks at you, you know.”

“Are you some kind of love guru? And what would a single, straight guy like you know anyway?” Baekhyun grumbles. He already knows Chanyeol will find a way to distort that into some form of compliment.

“Nothing, I just really love gossip.” Chanyeol sets his cutlery down on the tray, already done with his meal, and takes out his phone to play his stupid game. “He’s good for you. You seem happy.”

Baekhyun gives a full-body shudder. “Stop. We’re police officers, not girls in a teen flick. We’re cool now, but I still don’t want to talk about my boyfriend with you.”

“Open offer,” says Chanyeol with a light shrug. “Discussing matters of the heart with your friends are not gender exclusive, just so you know. My cubicle is always next to yours if you ever need me.”

“Thanks.” Baekhyun stands. The 180 Chanyeol just pulled on him makes him feel like he’s just experienced vertigo. “I’ll just, um, go see if the chief needs anything.”

Baekhyun never takes up Chanyeol’s offer. Instead, he continues to bury himself in the investigation. He sets up a foam board in his room with all the pieces of the puzzle he’s collected so far, dubbed the murder wall by his roommate. Kyungsoo texts him pictures of the dinners he cooks on some nights, and Baekhyun replies with a string of heart emojis but never actually shows up at his place. He spends most nights in his dorm researching past cases till dawn, his roommate’s lovely snoring and Junmyeon’s texts his only companions.

It has been a while since Baekhyun talked to Kyungsoo in person, so colour him a little surprised when he sees Kyungsoo sitting in his cubicle talking to the chief ten minutes after he’s supposed to clock out.

This combo spells disaster, if anything. He shoots Chanyeol a questioning look, but Chanyeol merely shrugs, continuing to pack his things.

“Sir, I found the missing files for the 1984 case,” says Baekhyun tentatively.

Minseok claps him on the shoulder. “Good work, Byun. Go home. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“It’s only Thursday, sir?”

“Take tomorrow off,” says the chief. Much to Baekhyun’s abject horror, the chief actually smiles at him, then at Kyungsoo. “Nice talk, doc.”

Kyungsoo gets up and shakes Minseok’s hand. “Pleasure’s all mine, Minseok,” he says, and to Baekhyun, “Shall we go?”

“Okay,” Baekhyun says as Kyungsoo pulls out of the station’s parking lot. “I find it super creepy that you’re on first name basis with the chief.”

“I’ve worked here longer than you,” Kyungsoo replies. “Look in the backseat; I got you something.”

It’s a golden box. “Chocolates?” asks Baekhyun, shaking it curiously.

“I hope you’re not still mad at me.”

Ah, apology chocolates. “I’m not,” Baekhyun says, fingering the satin bow on the box. “I’ve just been busy.”

“Oh,” says Kyungsoo. “I just thought... You stopped coming to see me in my office, I was just worried.”

“I wasn’t about to break up with you over a little spat, Kyungsoo.”

Kyungsoo reverses his car neatly into his parking space, then stops the engine of his car. “I wasn’t worried about that, I was worried about _you.”_

"I can take care of myself," Baekhyun insists.

“Go take a bath,” Kyungsoo tells him when they enter the apartment. “I’ll cook.”

“Don’t you dare baby me, Kyungsoo,” he says petulantly. “I’ll help.”

His boyfriend rests a hand on his cheek and plants a kiss between his eyes. “Let me apologise. Properly.”

“You’re so stubborn,” Baekhyun says, scowling.

Kyungsoo smirks. “Takes one to know one.”

“And childish, apparently.”

Kyungsoo makes samgyetang with doenjang paste, boiled together with a spattering of chives. It warms Baekhyun right up, especially as the winter cold continues to creep up on them. After dinner, Baekhyun lies across the sofa, head in Kyungsoo’s lap as he eats chocolate after chocolate. “I see right through you, Do Kyungsoo,” Baekhyun slurs.

The hand in his hair stops. “I didn’t think there was enough bourbon in those chocolates to get you drunk,” Kyungsoo says, concerned.

“I’m not drunk, I’m high on sugar. Keep petting my hair, please.” Kyungsoo tries to push the chocolates out of his reach, but Baekhyun slaps his hand away. “You think you’re slick, hiding things from me.”

“I think we should get you to bed,” Kyungsoo says. He pushes lightly on Baekhyun’s shoulder, trying to push him into a sitting position.

“Stop running away from me,” mumbles Baekhyun, burrowing deeper into Kyungsoo’s tummy. “I see it in your eyes. You’re scared.”

“I’m... what?”

There’s a crease between Kyungsoo’s caterpillar eyebrows that Baekhyun finds so cute. “Scared, afraid, frightened. Don’t worry, Kyungsoo, I’ll catch the perp. Not just for you, because I know you hate feeling weak. Not that you are, because I know you’re not. Okay?”

Kyungsoo breathes out. “You talked to Junmyeon about me.” Not a question, just a statement of fact.

“Maybe,” Baekhyun sing-songs. “And you talked to the chief about me.”

“No, I did not. I respect you enough to keep the details of our relationship private.”

Baekhyun feels a little guilty hearing that. “Then why did he give me a day off?”

From the way Kyungsoo’s clenching his jaw, Baekhyun can tell he’s starting to get angry. “Christ, Baekhyun. Have you seen yourself recently? You’re a mess.” Kyungsoo pulls him to his feet and down the hallway into the bathroom. “Purple toothbrush’s yours.”

Kyungsoo manhandles him to the bed, and wow, that shouldn’t be so sexy. Heat pools in his groin as his boyfriend strips him but doesn’t touch him. Before Kyungsoo can pull a pyjama top onto him, Baekhyun stops him. “Aren’t you going to have sex with me?”

“No,” Kyungsoo replies curtly, forcing the sleep shirt over his head. “I want you to sleep. When was the last time you slept?”

Since the case started? Baekhyun doesn’t remember. “And here I thought you only liked me for my body,” he jokes.

“And your pretty face,” Kyungsoo says, pushing him so that he lies down flat on the bed. “You’re going to ruin it with dark eye circles if you don’t sleep.”

“I think I love you, Kyungsoo,” Baekhyun sighs, letting Kyungsoo tuck him in. “It’s probably too early to say this...”

“No, I get it.” Kyungsoo’s expression softens. “Close your eyes.”

Baekhyun does, and waits for the kiss that never comes. He opens them again when he feels a weight lift off the bed, only to see Kyungsoo getting up to turn off the lights. “Really?” he snaps. “I’m sexually frustrated here.”

“Sleep it off.”

“I will literally die if you don’t touch my dick right now,” Baekhyun whines, throwing off the covers.

“At least I know which dumpster not to throw your body into.”

“Please? Just your mouth?”

“Fine, but promise me you’ll go to sleep after,” says Kyungsoo. “Take off your pants.”

Kyungsoo kisses him all over. First his mouth, sucking Baekhyun’s bottom lip between his own. Baekhyun can’t help but make a noise at the back of his throat when Kyungsoo’s tongue runs its path through his mouth, across the roof of his mouth and over the backs of his teeth. His hands run up Kyungsoo’s spine, lightly scratching when Kyungsoo kisses down his jaw to suck on the skin at the jut of his collarbone.

Baekhyun’s breath hitches when Kyungsoo’s mouth continues its journey southwards. His cock is more than half-hard now, glistening at the tip even though Kyungsoo hasn’t so much as touched him. He grips his cock and tugs on Kyungsoo’s hair.

Kyungsoo lifts his mouth from Baekhyun’s hip, where his teeth have left a dark pink bruise as a souvenir. Sensing Baekhyun’s urgency, Kyungsoo finally puts his mouth on him, first licking a broad stripe up the underside of Baekhyun’s cock then swallowing him down whole.

Baekhyun moans, both his hands fisting in Kyungsoo’s hair. Kyungsoo looks up at him, and they make eye contact. The sight of his boyfriend’s beautiful, thick lips wrapped around the girth of his cock, pupils blown wide has him feeling a little woozy, all the blood rushing away from his head. He squeezes his eyes shut.

“H— holy shit,” Baekhyun pants, “I just realised something. Your lips form a heart around my cock.”

Kyungsoo pulls off and jerks him off a few times. “Don’t interrupt me,” he says, voice hoarse and husky.

“Yes, sir.” Baekhyun stops Kyungsoo’s wrist. “I wanna finish in your mouth.”

Kyungsoo sucks him down again, hollowing his cheeks. Baekhyun can feel his soul leaving his body via his dick when Kyungsoo teases the head with his tongue. “Oh my god,” Baekhyun groans, eyes popping open. “Something else just popped into my head.”

Kyungsoo pinches his thigh in warning, and his glare is sending a pretty clear message: _Shut up._

“Hear me out, it’s—ah, important.” Baekhyun bites his bottom lip, looking at the ceiling to gather his thoughts. “Fuck, I can’t think when your mouth is doing that.”

“Are you asking me to stop?” Kyungsoo asks. He swipes his thumb over the head and spreads the flowing pre-cum down the shaft. “Because I will, if you keep talking.”

Baekhyun boner makes the decision for him.

Kyungsoo deepthroats him, muscles swallowing expertly around his cock. Baekhyun’s thighs tense, his back bowing off the bed, and he shoots his load down Kyungsoo’s throat with a muffled cry.

It shouldn’t be hot when Kyungsoo shoves his tongue into Baekhyun’s mouth and gives him a taste of his own cum, but after that mind-blowing orgasm, everything about Kyungsoo is pretty hot. He slips his hands into Kyungsoo’s soft fleece pants to fist his erection.

“Before I forget,” Baekhyun pants against Kyungsoo’s mouth. “I just remembered what I read in Junmyeon’s toxicology report. He had alcohol in his system.”

“But we’re not done with the report,” Kyungsoo says, a little wrecked as he fucks into Baekhyun’s fist.

“He’s been texting me bits and pieces of it over the week. And then there’s what you said—”

“Baekhyun,” Kyungsoo warns, strained. “I really want to cum, but not when you’re talking about two other men, one of whom is dead.”

“Sorry.” Baekhyun lifts his thigh slightly so that Kyungsoo can rut against it, and pushes himself onto one elbow to kiss him. Kyungsoo’s movements quicken, losing rhythm, and he finally finishes with a soft sigh.

“Why is the wet spot always on my side of the bed?” Baekhyun says, cringing at the sensation of Kyungsoo’s cum drying on his thigh.

“Learn to swallow,” Kyungsoo mutters. He picks up the discarded clothes from the floor and gives them both a quick wipe. “Put on some pants before you freeze.”

“Why do you always leave me after sex?” Baekhyun complains. “Ever heard of post-coital cuddling? I can give you a 30-day free trial.”

Kyungsoo returns a while later, properly dressed for bed this time. He switches off the lights and slips beneath the covers, pulling Baekhyun to his side of the bed. Baekhyun turns so that he’s facing Kyungsoo, the silhouette of face illuminated by the moonlight. “Anyway, what I was trying to tell you before I was rudely interrupted by your blowjob was that you’re a genius, Kyungsoo,” says Baekhyun, rubbing Kyungsoo’s hip.

“You can sing my praises tomorrow. Just sleep.”

“No, I might forget,” he continues. “You said something about not dumping my body in that dumpster. So why was the victim’s body in that specific dumpster? That dumpster _is_ the clue.”

“I didn’t mean anything when I said that.”

“Exactly why you’re a genius. The alcohol in his body, he must’ve gone into the club some time before his death. Someone must’ve seen him. I just need to find out who was tending the bar that night.”

“You probably don’t need to know this, but corpses ferment and produce ethanol when they decompose,” Kyungsoo mumbles tiredly. “Is this why you haven’t been sleeping?”

“Yes,” admits Baekhyun. “I just can’t stop thinking about all the possibilities. Whenever I think of something, Junmyeon-hyung tells me how plausible it is based on what he currently knows. We call ourselves the DDD, the Doctor-Detective Duo, which is a really rad superhero-sidekick name, if I do say so myself.”

“More like Dumb, Dumber and Do Kyungsoo.” Kyungsoo sweeps Baekhyun’s hair back from his forehead. “So Junmyeon has been enabling you. I’ll talk to him about it.”

“It’s not his fault,” Baekhyun whispers. “This case is important to me. I just can’t stand how no one, not the chief or even the media, seems to care about what happened to this man just because he was a tweaked out hobo. No one wants justice for him, not even his own daughter. I just... thought working for the KNPA would be more fulfilling, that I’d feel like I was making a difference.”

“I’m sure all those cats you saved are eternally grateful to you,” Kyungsoo tells him, but it doesn’t ease Baekhyun’s pout. Kyungsoo curls a hand around his neck, eyes brown like chocolate. “You are making a difference. You will.”

“When I’m chief, I’ll change things,” Baekhyun says softly. “I’ll fix every flaw in our flawed justice system.”

“That’s why you’re so special, Baekhyunnie. Go to sleep.”

Warmth floods through him at the nickname, down to the tips of his fingers. “You’re always so nice to me,” Baekhyun murmurs, clutching Kyungsoo’s pyjama top like a lifeline. “I’m putting you behind bars if you ever break my heart.”

* * *

Baekhyun is rudely awaken by Kyungsoo’s alarm at 7.30 in the morning. “Turn that fucking thing off,” he groans, flinging his arm across Kyungsoo’s chest. He actually feels pretty well-rested for once, thanks to Kyungsoo dragging him to bed at 10 last night.

Kyungsoo grabs his phone from his nightstand, its charger coming unplugged as he does. Baekhyun watches him blearily read through his messages, typing a quick reply before setting it face down back on the nightstand. He sits up and puts on his glasses, feet slipping into his house slippers.

“Call in sick,” Baekhyun pleads, pouting. “Who knows when I’ll get a day off like this again?”

“What happened to your dedication to solving the case?”

“My head hasn’t felt this clear in a long time,” Baekhyun says, stretching. “I definitely needed a break, and so do you. Besides, I should make up for how distant I was to you last week. I am feeling _extremely_ apologetic.”

“I would, Baekhyunnie, but I shouldn’t miss my last day of work.”

Baekhyun blinks, giving him a blank stare. “Your what.”

Kyungsoo rubs his jaw, where there’s a hint of stubble. “I tendered my resignation a month ago. I probably should have told you right away, but we weren’t _together_ together then. I wasn’t sure if you would even care by time I left. And with everything else going on, it slipped my mind until Minseok reminded me yesterday.”

Baekhyun sits up, brows furrowing. “You can’t just abandon the case.”

“Junmyeon’s taking over my position. I already cleaned out my desk last week.”

Baekhyun sputters. “There’s no way in hell the chief would’ve allowed this.”

Kyungsoo just raises an eyebrow. “Legally, he has to. He actually asked if I would stay at least until he officially closes it, but I declined. There’s no point, anyway; it’s just for the sake of protocol.”

“What do you mean, _officially_? The investigation is nowhere near complete,” Baekhyun says.

“There is no investigation, Baekhyunnie,” Kyungsoo says, turning away from him. “The KNPA has ruled it a suicide. It’s closed.”

Baekhyun feels like he just got the wind knocked out of him. “You knew and you never told me. All this time, you let me believe that I was doing something,” he says quietly. For the first time in his life, he finds himself completely speechless. “I need time to think.”

Thankfully, Kyungsoo does not apologise, because Baekhyun would not know what to say if he did. He simply says, “I’ll go wash up,” and pads off.

Baekhyun is left staring at the empty space Kyungsoo left behind for god knows how long. He should probably leave. What time is it? He picks up Kyungsoo’s phone to check, and almost drops it.

 _Kim Jongdae 07:58_  
_lmao u sure the popo are off my back  
i swear i saw a cop hanging outside_

 _Kim Jongdae 07:59_  
_too tall and too broad to be ur guy tho  
dont worry_

Baekhyun’s hands are shaking. He puts the phone down as gently as he can, a little part of him believing that if he does it quietly enough, he could undo what he just did. He gets dressed in record speed and is out the door, before the tap in the bathroom even shuts off, his long padded coat slipping halfway off his shoulder.

His own phone chimes in his coat pocket, where he left it yesterday. It’s not the special ringtone he has set for Kyungsoo. Thinking it could be his boss, he stops and takes it out, but it’s only Junmyeon.

 **_DDD Junmyeon 08:20  
_ ** _Hey, I heard it’s your off day today, I hope you don’t mind. I found something. Call me when you can._

Baekhyun only realises he put his shoes on the wrong feet when he steps into the taxi. He laughs mirthlessly and pays no attention to the disturbed look the driver gives him. He presses dial.

“This is a first,” Chanyeol says when he picks up. He’s panting heavily. “I’m not in the office yet, still on my morning run. Didn’t the chief give you a day off today?”

“Chanyeol,” he says, breathing deeply and hopes the panic doesn’t show in his voice. “Tell me you didn’t go to the club yesterday.” 

“I didn’t go to the club yesterday,” Chanyeol parrots. “But I did go two nights ago.”

“Why?”

“I just wanted to help you, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol answers. “I didn’t find anything out of the ordinary. Besides, I overheard the chief tell Dr Do yesterday that the case has been closed, so it was all in vain in the end.”

“Don’t go back there,” Baekhyun tells him seriously. The driver meets his eyes in the rearview mirror, and Baekhyun avert his gaze. Probably not the best idea to discuss too much detail.

“Okay, you’re being weird. How did you even know?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just do as I say.”

Baekhyun hangs up. He stares at his phone, the notification from Junmyeon jumping out at him. He thinks about calling him to find out what he discovered, but his fingers just wouldn’t listen to him. His knuckles have turned white from how hard he’s clutching his phone.

 _What are you afraid of?_ Baekhyun scolds himself internally. Besides the fact that Kyungsoo, the man he’s been sleeping with for six months, the man he has recently been calling his boyfriend, the man he just shared a bed with last night, is probably a—

Murderer?

Baekhyun chuckles out loud again, but it comes out sounding more like a sob. He’s seen Kyungsoo cry watching sports anime, seen him talk to stray puppies outside the station, heck, Kyungsoo likes petting his hair. Not that being a cold-blooded killer and any of those things are mutually exclusive, but Baekhyun has always imagined bad people to be... not Kyungsoo.

The taxi drops him off in front of the police dorms, and he kind of goes crazy after that. In what can only be described as a manic frenzy, Baekhyun spends the entire weekend playing a morbid game of _he loves me, he loves me not_.

"He’s a murderer, he’s not a murderer," he mutters to himself, but instead of pulling petals from a flower, he rips photographs and reports from his murder wall one by one and throws them straight into the trash.

The game always ends with _he’s not a murderer._

One hour after, much like clockwork, Baekhyun would empty his bin and stick everything back up on the wall in the same order. Rinse and repeat. Baekhyun doesn’t know why he expects the result to be any different, because it hasn’t changed between the first and tenth time he did so.

His scans every piece of information on that wall, his eyes tracing imaginary lines between them. He tries to link all the evidence together, but something’s missing. Baekhyun just needs to find out what.

His roommate has become increasingly worried for him, to say the least. He even offers to call him a priest, saying that he knows someone who’s really good with demonic possessions, but Baekhyun just laughs in his face.

It’d take more than a priest to exorcise Do Kyungsoo from his heart.

Speak of the devil, literally, Baekhyun’s phone vibrates on the third night of his mania. It’s a text from Kyungsoo, like he expected. It says _Baekhyun, can we talk?_

Baekhyun ignores it like he did the other hundred texts he receiving from him over the past three days. They all say the same thing anyway, always _Baekhyunnie, I’m sorry. Baekhyunnie? I can explain. Please reply. Are you eating or sleeping? Baekhyun? Talk to me. Baekhyun, I just want to know whether you’re still alive._

On the hundredth time he pins everything back up on the wall, he finds _it_ —the missing link. He walks over to his bookshelf and starts rifling through every book there. His finds it tucked in a criminology textbook, acting as a makeshift bookmark, just as he remembered.

It’s a polaroid of him and Kyungsoo at the HQ’s Halloween party. Baekhyun had gone dressed as a mummy. He remembers complaining about how boring Kyungsoo’s costume was, which was merely him in a doctor’s white coat and a stethoscope around his neck. He also remembers Kyungsoo telling him jokingly, “Well, at least now my patients are still alive when they reach me.”

“He’s a murderer,” Baekhyun whispers to himself, oddly calm, as he sticks the photo between the autopsy report and the bartender’s profile. The final piece. Then, he picks up his phone and makes an overdue phone call.

* * *

Baekhyun returns to work on Monday morning like nothing happened. Chanyeol’s worried for him, so Baekhyun expects that he must look like shit, but he just brushes off his friend’s concern.

The chief delivers the news personally. The case has been closed—respiratory failure due to drug abuse—all thanks to Baekhyun’s hard work. Chanyeol congratulates him, but the thank you gets lodged in his throat.

At the agreed upon time, his lunch buddy for today arrives at the bakery he gets his free donuts from. “Yo, I was waiting for your call all weekend,” Junmyeon greets him as he slides into the booth. It’s tucked away at the back of the shop, where no one will overhear them. “You look awful, Baekhyun.”

“Thanks, Junmyeon-hyung," he replies drily. "Anyway, thank you for coming out here. It’s one of my favourite places to spend my lunch break.”

“I know Kyungsoo just left, but you can’t be looking for a replacement already,” Junmyeon jokes. “I’m seeing someone, and Jongin is way too young for you.”

Baekhyun bristles at the sound of that name. “You know why I asked to meet you here,” says Baekhyun. He pauses when the old lady brings him his coffee and a plate of spaghetti, who then takes Junmyeon’s order.

“Of course. DDD business,” Junmyeon says, winking cornily as if they were undercover conspirators of a top-secret plan in a spy movie. He takes out a copy of the autopsy report. “I found something that could prove that it was foul play. A needle prick here,” he says, finger landing on the sketch of the victim’s chest.

Baekhyun squints. The mark was faint, but definitely there. “Okay, but he shoots heroin. This proves nothing.”

“Even if he was high out of his mind, I highly doubt he would be stupid enough to inject heroin into his own artery,” Junmyeon says. “Besides, there were identical pricks all over his forearms as well as evidence of collapsed veins. That shows that the victim knew how to shoot up the ‘safe’ way, which is into the veins there.”

“So what? Even if he nicked an artery, it doesn’t change the fact that he overdosed,” says Baekhyun.

The food arrives. Junmyeon chews his sandwich thoughtfully. “Actually, you’re wrong about that,” he says between bites. “The heroin blood concentration was too low. It was an air embolism.”

“Forgive me, but I didn’t go to medical school.”

“It’s when an air bubble gets trapped in your blood vessels,” Junmyeon explains. “From the position of the needle prick, the air bubble must have entered one of the arteries carrying blood to the lungs, causing them to fail. That would explain the cyanosis—the blue skin—and why he asphyxiated first before either his heart or his brain shut down, which is typical of drug overdoses.”

“How does an air bubble even find its way into the bloodstream? I don’t suppose someone just blows on a hole in your skin,” Baekhyun says.

“It’s extremely rare to die because of an air embolism,” Junmyeon says. “At first, I thought he might have accidentally injected air from his syringe while shooting heroin, since he was inebriated, but you would need a lot more air to make a bubble so big it completely stops blood from flowing to your lungs.”

“Backtrack a bit,” Baekhyun says, holding his hand up. Something in his mind clicks. “Kyungsoo— I mean, I heard bodies produce ethanol after death. I don’t think he was under the influence.”

“Well, yes, but ethanol is only produced if putrefaction of the body has started. The body was in that dumpster for four hours, and in Seoul’s winter temperatures? Not a chance.” Junmyeon brows wrinkle. “Kyungsoo would have known that.”

Ice runs through Baekhyun’s veins. “Okay, so there’s evidence that he was intoxicated,” Baekhyun says shakily. “The air embolism must have been an accident.”

“I don’t think so. Sticking a needle into your own chest would require the arm to be bent at an angle, his arm would have been too shaky to do it properly. Not to mention it would be pretty impossible to clearly isolate any blood vessels on your chest to shoot up.”

Baekhyun slams his hand onto the table. “The case is over,” he says evenly, eyes on his empty plate. “I actually only asked you to meet me to tell you that I think we should stop this.”

“But we’re the DDD! We fight for justice,” Junmyeon exclaims. “I know Kyungsoo has already signed off the papers, but I’m head of forensics now. With this new information, I can have the case reopened—”

“Stop!” Baekhyun shouts. The other patrons all turn to stare at him. Even Junmyeon is gaping at him from across the table. He buries his head in his hands in hopes they would all just mind their own business, and continues in a softer tone. “The DDD was a mistake. We got ahead of ourselves. Enough is enough, all right?”

Junmyeon clenches his jaw. “Just last week you were begging me to find you evidence that it was a homicide,” he says tightly, in a calm manner that betrays his quiet fury. “Now that I have, you turn me down? What changed, Baekhyun? What do you know?”

“I only wanted to solve a homicide case so that I’d get the chief’s approval,” Baekhyun lies. “I already got what I want.”

“You’re hiding something,” Junmyeon accuses.

Baekhyun does not say anything. Junmyeon is a lot smarter than he lets on. Baekhyun knows anything he says can and will be held against him.

What an ironic situation. The first time he gets to use that line in his short-lived career, it’s himself that he says it to.

Baekhyun takes out his wallet to pay for his meal and stands. “I’m sorry for wasting your time,” he says.

Junmyeon’s teacup is shaking when he sets it down. “Kyungsoo,” he whispers in shock. “You’re protecting him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Baekhyun coolly. He clenches his fist to stop the tremors in his hands.

“I— I knew Kyungsoo wouldn’t have missed the puncture mark on his chest in the autopsy,” Junmyeon says, stumbling over his words as the pieces of the puzzle start to come together. “He also told me there was no need to test for alcohol levels in the vitreous humour. I did it anyway, but...”

“Don’t bring him into this,” Baekhyun snarls angrily.

Junmyeon barrels on nevertheless. “I thought he just wanted to speed things along since he was resigning. No wonder he took so long with the toxicology report. He… he was probably looking for evidence that could prove that he was guilty. When there wasn’t any, he immediately signed off the case, ruling it to be of suicidal nature.” Junmyeon leans back and lets out a breathy chuckle. “That’s funny, because I was just thinking the perpetrator would have to have pretty good medical knowledge to pull this off.”

It would be futile to try to convince Junmyeon otherwise. Baekhyun sits down so as to not draw any more attention to their booth. “You will not breathe a single word of this to anyone,” Baekhyun says lowly.

“What? Is Kyungsoo going to off me too?” Junmyeon challenges. “You said you wanted justice. Do the right thing.”

The right thing. Baekhyun can’t imagine a world where letting Kyungsoo rot in prison is the right thing. “You told me before to keep him safe,” Baekhyun says.

“Not like this.” Junmyeon gives him a cynical smile. “He’s guilty, Baekhyun.”

“I don’t think you get to make that call,” Baekhyun says, leaving Junmyeon alone in the booth to stare at their empty plates. 

* * *

Baekhyun is undeniably jumpy that entire afternoon. He bounces his leg so much that Chanyeol begs him to stop because it’s making _him_ anxious. Baekhyun just apologises and blames it on the caffeine.

His heart would skip a beat every time someone passes the hallway connected to their tiny office. He expects to see the chief, coming to tell him that there has been a new lead in the case. Or worse, coming to take him away in cuffs for being an accessory in a first-degree murder.

He breathes out a sigh of relief when his work day ends uneventfully. He drives back to the dorms in his car, gets changed and hails a taxi. His car is still registered under his mother’s name. If he, for whatever reason, doesn’t make it out alive tonight, it wouldn’t be fair for her to pay a fine for his illegal parking.

Baekhyun finds it hilarious that he even considers this.

In the cab, Baekhyun takes out his phone to stare at his Kakaotalk page. He hasn’t opened the chatroom yet, so Kyungsoo can’t know whether he’s read the text or not, but he can still see the message’s content from the home screen. He reads and rereads it, like he’s been doing all day.

 **_Kyungsoo_ ** **_♡_ ** **_07:56 a.m.  
_ ** _Tell me what you know, Baekhyun._

Baekhyun steps squarely on Kyungsoo’s expensive welcome mat, psyching himself up. He wonders briefly if Kyungsoo has changed his passcode, but decides not to test it. After recent revelations, Baekhyun isn’t sure how kindly he would react to an uninvited guest.

He raps on the door three times and waits.

The door opens, and Kyungsoo pulls him inside before he can even say hi.

When he regains his composure, he finds a gun trained on his head, in the hands of none other than Kim Jongdae.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Kyungsoo hisses at Jongdae. “Put that thing down, asshole. You’re going to kill him.”

“Check him for weapons,” Jongdae says, still pointing the gun at his head.

Baekhyun isn’t stupid. Of course he came armed, pistol hidden under his oversized hoodie. Adrenaline courses through his body. He’s not sure how skilled Jongdae is with that thing, but he figures he can probably disarm him faster than the latter can pull the trigger.

Baekhyun’s muscles are tensed, ready to spring at any slight movement from Jongdae, but it’s Kyungsoo who speaks again. “I trust him. Don’t make me hit you, Jongdae.”

Jongdae finally lowers his weapon. Baekhyun releases a shaky breath as Kyungsoo walks him to the dining table. “Sit,” he says, as if Baekhyun didn’t just escape a near-death situation. “I’ll get you something to drink.”

“What brings you here, officer?” Jongdae asks, voice light with the barest hint of a threat. “Kyungsoo can’t be that good in bed.”

“I only want to know the truth,” Baekhyun says quietly.

Kyungsoo hands him a beer. Itt remains untouched, because Baekhyun does not trust Jongdae one bit, even if Kyungsoo seems completely fine around him. “I think you already know, Baekhyun,” Kyungsoo says, “but we should probably hear your version of the story first before we tell you ours.”

The logical part of Baekhyun’s brain is screaming at him to not tell them anything, for the sake of his safety. It’s one of the very first rules he learnt at the academy when it came to hostage rescue—never ever give hostage-takers anything that they can use as leverage against you. He ends up spilling his guts out anyway. He starts with the texts he accidentally read on Kyungsoo’s phone and ends with the theory Junmyeon proposed over lunch earlier that afternoon.

Kyungsoo just looks impressed. “I really taught Junmyeon well,” he says, sounding oddly fond.

Jongdae pinches the bridge of his nose. “Seriously? We’re probably going to have cops banging down your door tonight and that’s all you can say?”

“I told him not to tell anyone,” Baekhyun mumbles. “If that helps.”

Kyungsoo looks at him sharply. “I would never ask you to help me cover up a murder, Baekhyunnie.”

“You didn’t have to,” Baekhyun says fiercely. He hates that the nickname still makes his heart swell ten times too large for his ribcage. “I told you I would protect you.”

“Even after I killed someone?”

Baekhyun inhales sharply. There’s a faint ringing in his ears. Deep in his mind, he had an inkling that Junmyeon was right. He didn’t want to believe it at first, but to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth...

“Please, he said he wants the truth,” Jongdae snorts, turning to stare Baekhyun in the eye. “Kyungsoo didn’t kill him. I did.”

“Why?”

“Drugs,” Jongdae says simply. “The junkie came to the bar, begging for more heroin but didn’t have the cash for it. I had the bouncer kick him out, but the part-timer told me he was still slinking around. I waited for hours for him to leave, you know, even after the club closed, but I knew he was going to jump me the moment I walked out the back door, where I usually deal.”

“You could have just called the police,” Baekhyun says.

Jongdae actually laughs out loud. “Might as well call the DEA over for a big ol’ party.”

Baekhyun feels anger bubble in his chest, replacing the warmth from before. “If you killed him, then how the hell was Kyungsoo involved? I didn’t put my job and my morals on the line to keep your pathetic druggie ass out of prison, where you belong.”

“Watch it,“ Jongdae warns, eyes sliding to the gun he put on the edge of the table. “I don’t do that shit, I’m only a businessman.”

“That doesn’t make you any better than them,” Baekhyun retorts.

“Do you want to hear the rest or not? As I was saying, I knew he was still there, so I slipped out the front door. And okay, I kinda fucked up here, I probably should’ve just gone straight home but I was really annoyed at that dipshit. So I sneaked up on him and kick the shit out of him.”

“The bruising on his abdomen,” Baekhyun breathes.

“Yeah, I guess. Then I figured I could get rid of him forever if I let him freeze to death in the snow. So while he was still out cold, I tried to take off his shirt, but that fucker grabbed me. He was going nuts, trying to bite me and shit. I didn’t have much a choice, I saw his syringe lying there in the snow so I took it and just stabbed him,” Jongdae says, rubbing his neck. “I thought it would at least seem like an overdose, except it was just air. He just turned blue and died.”

“And because Jongdae failed biology in high school, he jabbed him in the artery,” Kyungsoo adds. “Blood went everywhere. Junmyeon was right about the embolism, but hitting the artery was purely bad luck. At least the air bubble travelled fast enough to stop the lungs before Jongdae could get himself killed.”

“Yeah, whatever. I asked Kyungsoo to help me clean him up since he has a medical licence and lived close enough to the club,” Jongdae says. “Thank god that loser only bled onto the snow, getting rid of the blood was easy enough to handle. Except there was still a dead body lying in the snow. Kyungsoo suggested we dissolve him in acid, but day was breaking and we couldn’t risk getting spotted moving his body. Then I said we bring him into the club and stash him there, but Kyungsoo said we’d get taped on the CCTV, and at least the snow would slow down the decay so he wouldn’t smell.”

“I didn’t expect some kid to snoop around,” Kyungsoo says.

Baekhyun blinks. “That’s it?”

Kyungsoo makes a confirmatory noise. “Yes, that’s the whole story.”

“So you’re best friends with an underground drug lord,” Baekhyun says slowly. “Wow.”

“Yes.”

“And you let him coerce you into disposing a dead body, despite working for the police.”

Jongdae snorts again. “Like anyone coerces Do Kyungsoo into doing anything. And he works _with_ the police, _for_ me.”

“You’re a mole,” Baekhyun says to Kyungsoo, the realisation just hitting him.

“Was,” Kyungsoo corrects. “I resigned.”

“I remember now. That morning they found the body, you were watching CSI. You were trying to find out how to hide the body from the police.”

“What? Officer, we may be criminals, but we’re not idiots,” Jongdae cuts in flatly.

“You knew Jongdae was guilty. When my interview notes on my phone went missing, that was you?”

“Yes, I erased them while you were in the shower,” Kyungsoo admits nonchalantly. “I’m sorry it got you into trouble.”

“You helped the KNPA put a bunch of criminals behind bars,” Baekhyun says, confused. His brain is getting overloaded with too much information. “Everyone loved you. Why do that if you work for a criminal?”

“I had to get Minseok and the higher-ups to trust me,” Kyungsoo explains. “As long as they stayed clear of Jongdae’s business, I did my job.”

“No, that makes no sense,” Baekhyun says. He lets out a hysterical giggle. “You two are lying to me.”

“Believe what you want, then,” Jongdae snaps. He pushes his chair back and stands. “I told Kyungsoo not to fuck a cop, but the moron didn’t listen and now the idiot’s in love with you. We’re only in this mess because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut and talked to that Jun guy.”

“Me? You killed a man and it’s my fault?” Baekhyun asks incredulously.

“You heard me,” Jongdae grouches. He picks up his gun. “If I see another one of you blues hanging around my club again, I’ll make sure my dumpster is ready for its next guest.”

“Jongdae,” Kyungsoo calls out before he leaves. “Are you sure it’s safe to go? If Junmyeon told anyone—”

“A club can’t run without alcohol and a bartender,” Jongdae says with a wry grin. “If anything, I’d be more worried about yourself. He thinks you did it.”

Kyungsoo hesitates, but finally agrees. “Fine. Go.”

They sit in silence for a while after Jongdae leaves. “After he got you involved in a crazy murder, you still want to protect him,” Baekhyun murmurs softly, staring at the drops of condensation on the beer can. “Why?”

Kyungsoo swallows. “There’s a reason I have a nice car and this fancy apartment, despite being on the KNPA’s crap payroll for so many years,” he says. “But what I do for Jongdae is not just about the money. He gave me everything that I have now, I am indebted to him.”

“But your parents are rich.”

“They were,” Kyungsoo says softly. “They died before I graduated high school. I was so young, suddenly left with so much money. I admit I was careless about spending my inheritance. By time I finished college, went through four years of medical school and completed my five-year residency, I was still in debt. My brother refused to help me because he thought I deserved it. So I was left with two options:  I could either get a fellowship, work 80 hour weeks and slowly pay it off, or I could work for Jongdae and go back to my lifestyle. I chose the easy way out.”

“So... did Jongdae put an ad in the newspaper or what,” Baekhyun says.

Kyungsoo lips quirk. “No, I knew him in high school. We weren’t that close then, all I knew was that he bought a club in an expensive part of town after graduation. I only went hoping he’d take pity on me and give me free alcohol. He offered me a proposition instead. I guess he felt like he could trust me after what happened to my parents.”

“Okay,” Baekhyun says, then sighs. “I’m sorry. I— I don’t know what to do, or say. I don’t think the academy prepared me for a situation like this.”

Kyungsoo offers to drive him home. Seeing Baekhyun’s hesitation, he seems to remember that he and Baekhyun are still in some weird relationship limbo after that Friday morning. “Or I can call you a taxi, if you prefer.”

“No, let’s keep talking. I didn’t know you had a brother. I still don’t know anything about you, so tell me.” _Help me trust you again._

Kyungsoo does. Baekhyun learns more things about him in half an hour than he did in the past six months. Kyungsoo used to have two dogs, but he had to leave them behind at his parents’ house, where his brother and his family now lives, because his apartment has a strict no pets policy.

Kyungsoo graduated from medical school with average grades and had originally planned to go into radiology, but ended up straying into pathology.

Kyungsoo’s most recent ex was at least five years ago, and he is now a doctor at a children’s hospital.

Kyungsoo, Kyungsoo, Kyungsoo, who just pressed his lips to Baekhyun’s and kissed him.

Baekhyun pulls away first. Kyungsoo’s expression smooths over, a porcelain mask of practised indifference, not unlike that first night outside Up Rising.

“I’m sorry but I can’t,” Baekhyun says helplessly at the same time Kyungsoo says, “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t stop myself.”

“I think I need time,” Baekhyun adds on quickly. “Would it be a total cliché if I said it’s not you, it’s me?”

“Yes. It would also be a lie,” says Kyungsoo. He takes Baekhyun to the door and helps him put on his coat. “Baekhyun,” he continues seriously, “I just want to tell you—”

“I know, I’m special,” Baekhyun replies cheekily, but his nose is turning red and his voice is watery.

Kyungsoo’s glare is void of any heat. “I was saying, I understand if you don’t want to see me again. But if you do...”

“Okay,” Baekhyun says again, sniffling a little. It’s now his go-to whenever he finds himself with nothing to say. “I’ll talk to Junmyeon-hyung for you. Maybe I can convince him to not have the chief break down your door.”

“No, I’ll talk to him myself.”

“What will you tell him?”

“The truth,” Kyungsoo says simply. “He deserves that.”

“And Jongdae?”

“I’m sure he can find another club to deal drugs in.”

Baekhyun gives Kyungsoo a hug, and for old times’ sake, breathes in the scent of Kyungsoo’s hair at the nape. He’s pleased to find that it still smells the same. “This isn’t goodbye,” he promises.

“I hope not,” Kyungsoo says, and lets him go.

* * *

Baekhyun’s life is surprisingly normal after that. He’s back to filing reports, eating donuts and saving cats from trees. Only god knows why the cats around him keep getting stuck.

He doesn’t know the details of what Kyungsoo told Junmyeon, but whenever he runs into the latter in the lift or the hallway, he still gets a small smile in greeting. He lingers by various water coolers in the station to see if any of his fellow policemen are gossiping about it, to see whether Junmyeon may have let slip what he knows, but comes up with nothing. He suspects the new watch Junmyeon is wearing and the new car in the HQ’s parking lot has something to do with it. He realises that people are not too different when it comes to money.

He does mourn the loss of their friendship, though. It’s a pity that the DDD has been DDDisbanded, but it’s kind of impossible to be a crime-fighting duo when they’re practically criminals as well. They definitely don’t talk about it when they occasionally have lunch together. At least they still have Jongin, who is proud to have officially graduated from scrub status, to fill the silence with stories about their lab’s new intern.

Chanyeol is still nosy as ever, asking him questions about his relationship (if he can still call it that) now that he doesn’t see Kyungsoo at work anymore. He just sticks his tongue out and tells him it’s complicated. He doesn’t want to say it’s over yet. On the other hand, the chief appears to be less stressed that the two of them no longer bicker with each other.

His roommate is just glad that the murder wall is gone for good.

As for Kyungsoo, he gives Baekhyun the space he asked for. He doesn’t blow up Baekhyun’s texts like he did the first time, for which Baekhyun is grateful. It allows him to think and process everything, and to slowly reconsider and rebuild his core beliefs. It takes him three weeks, but Baekhyun finally feels ready to talk to Kyungsoo.

He texts Kyungsoo three days in advance, figuring Kyungsoo would appreciate the time to prepare himself too. He also sends a reminder not to cook.

On Friday night, he swings by his favourite Chinese food restaurant and picks up enough takeout to feed a family of four. He lets himself into the apartment this time, still not completely recovered from the time he knocked and was greeted with a gun shoved in his face.

“Kyungsoo?” he calls out into the empty entryway, shedding his coat.

Said man emerges from his bedroom, looking a little sleepy. “You brought takeout, nice,” says Kyungsoo. His cheeks look flushed from his afternoon nap. “Shall we eat in front of the TV?”

A documentary about the food industry is showing, which bores Baekhyun out of his skull. Kyungsoo seems enraptured, but perhaps it’s just to avoid talking to Baekhyun. Seated at opposite ends of the sofa, they eat in silence. Mostly, anyway, because Baekhyun can’t resist making loud, obnoxious chewing noises to get a rise out of Kyungsoo. He laughs when Kyungsoo kicks him in the thigh.

After his fourth helping of fried rice, Baekhyun feels like the atmosphere is finally comfortable enough to speak. “For the past three weeks, I thought about a lot of things,” he begins. He pulls out a piece of scrap paper from his pocket. “I came up with a list of ten questions. The rule of this game is simple: You can’t lie to me, even if the truth is ugly.”

Kyungsoo looks at him curiously, eyes bright. “All right, I’ll answer them,” he replies, “but I think it’s only fair if you answer some of mine, too.”

Baekhyun considers this. It’s not like he has anything to hide, so he agrees. “Okay, first question: Did you tamper with any evidence, during or after the testing?”

“No.”

“You have to give me a little more than that.”

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to, Junmyeon would have detected it,” Kyungsoo says, sipping his beer. “I simply omitted key evidence when I delivered my oral report to the chief. I didn’t tell him about the alcohol so that he wouldn’t be able to place the victim at the bar before his death.”

Baekhyun nods. He peers at his list. “Why did you take me into the club to meet Jongdae if you already knew he was the perpetrator?”

“I didn’t think you were going to _interrogate_ him,” Kyungsoo says, frowning. “I don’t know, I guess I talk to him about you a lot, so he said he wanted to see your face. It was really bad timing on my part, I got an earful from Jongdae after that.”

“He wanted to meet me?” Baekhyun asks, interested. “Is he going to recruit me? This isn’t part of my ten questions, just so you know.”

“No way.” Kyungsoo makes a face. “I would kill him myself.”

“Next. Did you or did you not pay Junmyeon off to keep his mouth shut?”

“I didn’t, but Jongdae may have offered him something else.” When Baekhyun’s jaw drops, Kyungsoo just rolls his eyes and says, “He wouldn’t ask Junmyeon to replace me; Junmyeon’s far too nice. As far as I know, Jongdae only got him a few gifts to help just for, ah, insurance that the DEA won’t be raiding Up Rising any time soon.”

The next question is one he’s not sure if he wants to know the answer to. “How many other people have you two, um, you know,” Baekhyun says, chewing his lip.

“Zero. Jongdae’s really just a distributor.” Kyungsoo snorts softly. “He’s all talk, anyway. The gun he was waving around the other day? The dumbass doesn’t even know how to shoot it.”

Relief floods through Baekhyun at that answer. He’s come to terms with drug dealer, but he might have to reconsider certain things if Kyungsoo was affiliated with some kind of serial killer. “Number five,” he says, scooting closer to Kyungsoo’s side of the couch. “What happened to your parents?”

He watches Kyungsoo closely to see if he’ll choke up or start crying, but he doesn’t. “Some drunk driver T-boned their car,” Kyungsoo says without much emotion. “I’ve always thought it was such an ordinary way to go, but they were ordinary people. They were engineers, and as far as I know, weren’t involved in any kind of shady business. It was an accident.”

“I’m sorry about your parents,” Baekhyun whispers. He gingerly rests his head on Kyungsoo’s shoulder, testing the waters, his thumb rubbing circles across the back of Kyungsoo’s knuckles.

“It was a long time ago,” Kyungsoo says simply. “The police caught the guy, but he was apparently related to some bigshot politician. He got off with a slap on the wrist and a limp. It took some time, but I’m doing a lot better now.” Kyungsoo flashes him a small smile. “However I can’t say I have many regrets about betraying the KNPA.”

“Okay.” Baekhyun hesitates, but Kyungsoo just nods, giving him the green light to keep asking. “Next question. How— How do you sleep at night?”

“Knowing I helped kill a man?” Baekhyun nods, and Kyungsoo just smiles humourlessly. “I wondered the same thing the first few nights, then I asked myself, why should I feel bad? He was old and homeless, but was he really innocent? Does our justice system truly care about protecting the innocent, or do they only want to punish the guilty?” Kyungsoo pauses. “He only got hurt because he was trying to hurt someone else. It’s true that Jongdae is not innocent either, nor am I, but I can’t imagine how it would be fair for us to spend the rest of our lives in a cell just because he picked a fight with the wrong people. His death wasn’t a punishment; it was an escape from what he actually deserved.”

Baekhyun is rendered speechless. Since he was a kid, he has always wanted to be a superhero whose cape billowed in the wind as he throws bad guys in jail. At the academy, he was surrounded by people with the same ideals. They were taught one thing: that criminal was the enemy, not the crime.

But even back then, Baekhyun had his doubts. As a college student struggling to get his Bachelor’s in criminology, he couldn’t understand how physically harming another person would get you charged with battery, but police brutality is celebrated because ‘the criminal deserved it’. He couldn’t understand why teenagers from poor families, who were forced to steal to survive, were sent to prison along with murderers and sexual offenders.

He remembers asking his instructors and his peers, hoping they could help him clear his confusion, but received the same answer so many times he started to believe it:

_The KNPA doesn’t just serve the people, we serve justice._

Baekhyun isn’t sure he understands what that means anymore.

Kyungsoo nudges him lightly when he doesn’t speak for some time. The TV is still playing, something about chicken eggs. Kyungsoo reaches over to pick up the remote and turns it off. “Sorry,” Baekhyun says. He makes to lift his head, but Kyungsoo pulls him back down, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. He can’t help but snuggle closer into Kyungsoo’s neck. “Ah right, my list. Question seven, why did you resign?”

“Honestly? I’m sick of dead people,” he says. “I still have a medical licence. After four years of working for the KNPA, I think I need a breath of fresh air. Literally, because the ventilation in the basement is awful.” Baekhyun feels (more than hears) Kyungsoo’s chuckle rumble in his chest. “I think you played a role in my decision, too.”

“I know, you’re just itching to get rid of me,” Baekhyun says, clinging on tighter.

“I’m sure you know this more than anyone else, but I’m the most selfish man on earth. I wanted to keep you, Baekhyun, so badly,” Kyungsoo murmurs into his hair. “Despite what I think about the police, about the KNPA, I know you love it more than anything. I thought it’d be best if I left before the truth could hurt you, but I couldn’t prevent it in the end.”

“You weren’t planning to use me?” Baekhyun says, voice tiny. “This is my eighth question, by the way.”

“Never. It was only Minseok and some DEA officials.”

“And how can I trust you again?” Baekhyun asks. “You lied to me for seven months, how can I know for sure you aren’t still lying to me?”

“I don’t know,” Kyungsoo says, voice raw with honesty. “It may not mean much, but you’re special to me.”

This time, Baekhyun lifts his head to look at Kyungsoo. For the first time since he’s known the man, he thinks Kyungsoo actually looks vulnerable and small here. His eyes are clear and glassy. Baekhyun crumples his list in his fist and says, “My final question. Tell me why I’m special.”

“Because, Byun Baekhyun, you have more care for people in _here_ than anyone else.” Kyungsoo points a finger at his chest, slightly to the left of his sternum. Baekhyun wonders if Kyungsoo can feel the thudding of his heart through his sweater. “Your classmates treated you like shit at the academy, but you never sunk to their level or talked about revenge. Your partner, Chanyeol, he bullied you for years but you don’t hold it against him. The chief looked down on you, but you still idolised him.”

Baekhyun opens his mouth to deny it, but Kyungsoo just rests a hand on his cheek. “Let me finish,” he says seriously. “You cared when a homeless drug addict died when no one else did. You sacrificed your sleep because you couldn’t live with the thought of injustice. Even when the police refused to do anything more, you didn’t give up. You said you wanted to be chief so you could change things.

“You never suspected me when I sabotaged your investigation on multiple accounts. You defended me to Junmyeon because you wanted to believe he was wrong. You’re still sitting on my couch in my home, after all the horrible things I just confessed to doing. I can think of a hundred other things, but I hope you’ll see them yourself. You are so good to me, because you still care about me, even though I’m a bad person.”

“You are not a bad person, Kyungsoo,” Baekhyun insists vehemently.

“Really?” Kyungsoo’s hand falls back into his lap, and Baekhyun’s cheek suddenly feels so cold. Maybe it’s because of the tears that are drying on his cheeks. “You are so _good_ , Baekhyunnie. That’s why I think I can be selfless this time and let you go.”

Baekhyun crawls into Kyungsoo’s lap and wraps his arms around his shoulders, peering into his big, round eyes. “I fucking hate you, Do Kyungsoo,” he says, crying a little. “Save your supervillain monologue for next time. For now, can you just kiss me?”

“That’s more than ten questions,” Kyungsoo says, but he’s smiling again. He grasps Baekhyun’s face in both his hands and kisses him. It’s slow and soft, so vastly different from the fierce, passionate liplocks they shared at the station or in bed, and it feels like love.

Baekhyun buries his face in Kyungsoo’s neck. “I still owe you ten answers,” he mumbles.

“Do you like fried rice that much?”

“Yes,” Baekhyun answers immediately.

“All right, then I’ll save the other nine for tomorrow,” Kyungsoo replies, yawning. “Do you want to stay…?”

Happiness doesn’t fully describe what Baekhyun feels when he learns that Kyungsoo still has the purple toothbrush from before in his bathroom, that Kyungsoo has started calling the pyjamas he wore last time, his. Maybe there are still lots of issues they have to address before they can call themselves boyfriends again, but Baekhyun thinks there’s no righter feeling than slipping beneath the covers next to Kyungsoo.

“One more question,” Baekhyun says into the dark. “What will happen to Jongdae’s, ah, business, now that you’ve resigned? I just need to know who’s the new mole so I can kick their ass next week.”

Kyungsoo laughs. “Jongdae’s thinking of selling the club, actually. It’s a hotspot for DEA agents. I think he’ll go for somewhere more inconspicuous this time, maybe a laundromat.”

“Good,” Baekhyun sniffs, nestling closer. “He sucks at making cocktails.”

* * *

 

**epilogue**

Jongdae does end up buying a fancy laundromat to continue his underground business, but in a quieter neighbourhood this time. It’s slightly less profitable than Up Rising, which he whines about a lot, but Nosedive (a stupid name for a laundromat, Kyungsoo says) has proven to be another one of his successful business ventures.

Baekhyun just turns a blind eye and pretends to not know about the second dryer from the right, sitting innocently in darkest corner of the store that always has an out-of-order sign taped to its front. He’s still not completely comfortable with how Jongdae chooses to make a living; it helps him sleep better this way.

Kyungsoo decides to pursue a more _legal_ line of work. This means working in a hospital lab, testing pee samples and sifting through vomit. It also means he’s working longer hours, and he sees far more dead bodies than he did when he worked for the KNPA, but the money is good. Baekhyun doesn’t get to see him as often now as they both get busier, which Jongdae interprets as an open invitation to hangout, just to annoy Baekhyun.

One time, Jongdae tries his luck and asks Baekhyun if he would be interested to work for him. “I’m talking six figures. Yearly increments, full health insurance, a new car,” Jongdae promises, waggling his eyebrows. When Kyungsoo catches wind of it, he pummels Jongdae into the carpet, Jongdae’s screams echoing off the walls. Having been on the receiving end of Kyungsoo’s iron fists before, Baekhyun can only wince and feel bad for him.

The chief tells him he’s passed his probation with flying colours. “Honestly, I doubted that you had it in you, Byun,” Minseok tells him. He sounds a little apologetic. “Good job with the robbery case. I’m retiring soon, and you have a long way to go, but I’d like to see you take my place before I croak. Don’t disappoint me.”

While Baekhyun still loves his job, he thinks that ultimately, the words _bad guy_ don’t mean the same thing to him anymore. Putting people behind bars is no longer his main focus; serving justice is, although Baekhyun is still trying to figure out what that word truly means. As he slowly climbs the ladder at the KNPA, he comes to learn that there is nothing more imbalanced and unfair in the world than the criminal justice system.

In the meantime, he and Kyungsoo have fun with his spare set of handcuffs.

Kyungsoo kicks him lightly under the table. It’s a rare night where they actually get to have dinner at home, eating home-cooked food together. “You have that ‘I’m having dirty thoughts’ look on your face,” Kyungsoo says.

“I do not,” Baekhyun replies indignantly.

Kyungsoo just shakes his head disbelievingly. “You’re special, Baekhyunnie.”

These days, Baekhyun _feels_  kind of special, too. “I think you’re one of a kind yourself, Kyungsoo.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you reached the end, thank you for reading! this is the first thing i wrote after 2 years of fic-writing hiatus, i think i'm a little rusty, but DMUMT era baeksoo attacked me, so here i am, with an unedited 20k wc fic with a plot.
> 
> the "research" i used for this fic was basically just me trying to remember how things went down on NCIS, i.e. i pulled most things out of my ass. sorry for the plot holes and inaccuracies.
> 
> [my twitter](http://twitter.com/bunnyoasis) if you want to be friends!


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